The Tahini Situation

October 30th. The jar left my hand at almost exactly 7am and I watched it fall in a way that felt much longer than it was. There is a specific sound a glass jar makes on tile that tells you immediately and completely what has happened, before you even look down. I looked down. Tahini. Everywhere.

Simone was here because we had talked about running this morning before she had a Tuesday session later, that plan evaporated when she arrived to find me crouching in the wreckage of my breakfast, both hands raised like I was surrendering to the tile. She took a photograph before she said a single word. I do not know why I expected anything different.

We used most of a paper towel roll. The floor is clean now in the way a floor is clean after something like that, which is to say I will probably find tahini in a corner in December.

cleanup in progress

At some point during the cleanup Simone made a comment about how the prints were probably relieved to still be on the wall rather than the floor, which, fair. The prints remain leaning. Unkilled by falling tahini.

post-disaster assessment

It is Halloween tomorrow and I have one jar of tahini fewer than I did yesterday morning. The cord's shadow on the windowsill is doing its October thing in the low light. Gerald looks unbothered. The kitchen smells faintly of sesame and I have decided this is fine.