Breakage

It looks like I have to go to Ikea soon. I managed to drop three small ice cream bowls from the first shelf of my cupboard as I was reaching for a cereal bowl behind them. The process of dropping them is irrelevant; the fact that this is another challenge for me, getting a bowl from the first shelf of my cupboard, shows where things are at these days. And it's another of the hidden costs of ALS.

Even my breakfast bowls have taken a beating over time. They are chipped and cracked, hanging on for dear life. I've already broken one, and replaced it. There are so many other of my dishes I have dropped that I am surprised I have a full set of anything left. Fortunately my dinnerwear is sturdy; I bought it that way on purpose. My coffee cups are fairly strong too although it only takes one fall at just the right angle to break off a handle. I'm talented that way.

It is this talent, this ability to lose, drop, and break things which leaves me with a cupboard full of odds and ends on a regular basis. Oddly enough, the damage and loss does not diminish my dish count; in fact it seems to grow larger day by day. The reason is simple enough. If I break or lose something out of a set, especially when I get past the second one, I often replace the whole set.

Periodically I just go through the cupboards and donate the odds and ends to the local thrift shop. If they can make a few cents selling it to someone who needs it, good for them. If they can't sell it, it will end up in the same place I would be putting it eventually. I am odd that way. I am perfectly willing to donate to the second hand shop, but I hate buying things there. My children love thrift shopping; they learned from my ex-wife. Yet I have always disliked it.

Oh well. Breakfast is over. My home care aide retrieved a bowl for me, one which is chipped twice along the edge, though not yet cracked. He even swept up the broken glass. I've had my cereal. Nothing else has been dropped, but the day is yet long. Next, grab the Swiffer mop and see if I can pick up those tiny, shiny particles glinting at me off my floor.