More or less our conversation just now, the morning after:
After the soot settled from the fridge-fire last night, I buried my face in my hands and eked, “Life is an I Love Lucy episode.”
“Yeah, first there’s water coming out of the wall, and then we open the fridge and the Smoke Monster from Lost is unleashed,” John said.
I saw his eyes roll back into his head as he went onto begin the Litany of Debacles lately. I raised my hand, “Wait, stop. Let’s not list everything or things might take a turn emotionally.”
He smiled, revealing a fleck of ash still between this teeth–paused and then listed the blessings, the little floating nets that always seem to always catch us.