For those of you who miss my Facebook Lucy-isms since I left FB, I think you’ll really enjoy this post…

I stayed at the Landing (see previous post) for about an hour – until my shaded spot had been hijacked by the sun. On my way home, I stopped in to Canadian Tire (feeling all outdoorsy as I was) and was tempted by a lovely tent that was on sale. It stood at 6’6″ in the centre and slept 6 (ie: 2 comfortably). It had a lovely canopy at the entrance and was 40% off. All wrapped up, it wouldn’t even take up too much space in my storage-roomless condo. I resisted the urge, though, knowing that I wouldn’t actually go camping by myself and nobody here than I know would go with me. All the same, it was fun to snoop around that section and pretend I belonged there!

On my way in, I had noticed a chip truck in the parking lot and decided to check it out before I left – fresh cut fries are a great treat on a beautiful, sunny day! I hadn’t eaten there before so I also got a side of gravy to see what it was like – I do love me some good gravy!

When I got home, I put my bag with my notebook, book, etc. over my shoulder, the container with the fries in my left hand, and the little cup of gravy (filled to the brim and smelling delicious, I happily add) perched on top of the fries container.

Everything was going so well. I balanced it all perfectly going up the steps to my building and when I unlocked and opened the front door. I had no issues on the stairs to my unit or unlocking my door. The steps and stairs made things a little wobbly, as did shifting the keys around at each of the doors. But it was all good.

Honestly, I’m not sure where the problem came into play, but play it did. All of a sudden (you can see where this is going), while I was standing on the flat, stable, tiled floor of my entry way, everything went awry and POOF! the gravy cup tumbled off of the fries container and landed with a splat on the floor. I mentioned I was on stable ground at the time, right? Yup. I was. Maybe I got cocky. I shouldn’t have. This scenario has played itself out multiple times in my life. If you follow me on Instagram (heresmeg1111), you may remember the sour-cream-on-the-kitchen-floor incident of the recent past. Yet, for some reason I continually think that this will be the time that either a) I won’t be clumsy or b) gravity will take pity on me. Alas, ’twas not to be!

In my own defense, though, I will add that when I was getting out of the car I thought for a moment of putting the cup of gravy in my purse, but I remembered one time a couple of years ago when I did that with some pop from McDonald’s because my hands were full with other things. Despite my best efforts, the lid popped off and, well…let’s just say it didn’t work out so well.

Thankfully that memory served me well today and I didn’t put the gravy in my purse. I at least get points for that, right?

Still feeling a smidgen of hope, before the cup hit the floor, I remember thinking that maybe it would be fine. Maybe it would be like that one-in-a-million time when the buttered toast lands buttered-side up. If you’ve been paying attention, though, you’ll remember that I’ve already used the word “splat” and therefore that it was not fine. The lid popped off of one end and the Styrofoam bottom split off from the other. The gravy, thick though it was, splashed out, Jackson Pollock-style on my floor.

I kept my wits about me, though, and managed to salvage the bit that was left in the cup so I could at least taste it.

I needn’t have bothered.