No use crying over spilled Milk, but perhaps spilled Wine

I laughed with my friend who was sitting across the room full of ladies, and as I turned away I saw it happen.  The glass of burgundy red wine I had been holding in my hand hit the high backed chair and fell onto my light brown corduroy pants, splashing onto the floor where it covered my socks, the back of the high-back chair, the floor, the cloth coffee table and at least one other guest.  I swear it fell for an eternity, if only gravity wasn’t so stubborn.

In a flash a team of high skilled housewives were on the job cleaning up my mess when they could have been counting dots on the die ready to win a Bunco.  And as just as the glass had fallen, so did my burdens.

“I am so sorry! It’s everywhere! I’m covered. I can’t believe this. My entire day has been like this.”

At least five women tried to console me with, “its okay, it happens”. There was no consoling my day…

“This is a day I should have slept through! I woke up bumped my newly refurbished nose, got glutened off of communion bread at church, went to lunch with friends and had a tummy ache after, came home to an almost migraine and a super excited puppy, then did the most idiotic thing I could have possibly done. I drove. I drove here. Of course it only takes that one time, I answered my phone while driving and the gate guard caught me. Now I have a citation, and spilled wine. Can this get more dramatic?”

My dear friend piped in with, “Her husband is gone for the month to train in the states and then he’s leaving for his first deployment to the desert.”

Tears welled. Mine. Not again.

The floor was clean, probably cleaner than it had been in a long time. I sprayed Oxy-Clean over my wine drenched clothes. The room filled with the smell of cleaner.  There’s not one sweatshirt I own without a stain, why not wine?

Several women began consoling me with tips on how to get through it and suddenly I realized it is possible, in spite of my hatred of the situation. All things are possible with God, are they not?

A lady asked me if I wanted more wine, “No I think I’m done. I give up; it’s just not my night.”

Another walked over to my table with two glasses of wine.

One woman jested, “Hey two glasses?”

“I felt bad for her; I’m going to have a glass with her.” So the sweet lady and I sat at the table drinking a new, fuller glass of wine.

These women are truly special and an encouragement to me. I am thankful to know them.

And that was the end to a day of ridiculous “Bolda-Luck”. Though, the next day I was graciously informed that my driver’s license would be revoked for 30 days all for a phone call. When I shared all of this to my dearest husband he just laughed and told me I was having an I Love Lucy day, well babe, as long as you still love me, you can call me “Lucy”.