Chivalry is Not Dead

Last night, after having a pretty crummy day, I added to it when loading the dishwasher.

I dropped a dish -- a dish I liked a lot. It was like one of those slow motion things. I saw that it was going over the edge. I fumbled to catch it. Then, as it slipped and was falling, all I could do was put my hands on my ears. I knew it was a goner.

The crash was loud. That's what happens on a tile floor. It shattered - pieces were scattered as far away as the dining room.

I sighed and bent down to start picking it up.

But chivalry is not dead.

Hubby dropped what he was doing in the living room and started picking up pieces stopping only long enough to retrieve the broom and dustpan. My teenage son paused his video game and excused himself from the chat to come running down the stairs and start picking up pieces.

Both of them took turns telling the dog and Rugrat to stay back.

By the time it was cleaned up, I had stopped picking up pieces to finish putting away dinner. Between the two of them, I wasn't necessary to clean it up.

It was kind of nice to be rescued like that.

And I guess, at least, I no longer had to try to manipulate things so they fit in the dishwasher.