my date with henry

I look down at the floor with dismay. It has been at least ten days since it had last been swept and/or vacuumed but when someone comes to play, I tend to go on holiday myself. It doesn’t help that I feel like crap with the remnants of a sore throat that would rather switch from one side of my throat to another than just shrivel up and die.

I sigh. It has to be done. Better now than never. Besides, I noticed we had gotten a few more flatmates.

The large spider web in the bathroom is one thing – something I tend to encourage because let’s face it, when you have one spider in your house, you have no other bugs. But earlier that morning I noticed that one web had turned to three, and 1+1+1=infestation. It was time they were evicted.

I shuffle my way to the cabinet in the kitchen that stores Henry, our trusted vac. Oh Henry….how I love thee. Your fire engine red colour makes me smile. As does the happy face painted on your belly, along with the black hose that sprouts forth from what should be your nose. I love pulling you around the flat, and when a small bump makes you hesitate, I like to turn around and encourage you with a little ‘Oh, come on Henry!’, and with a slight tug, you always oblige. You’re so reliable that way.

As I pull Henry out I notice that his storage space looks a little dusty, and I see the irony of it all. I make a mental note to myself to clean out Henry’s cupboard with his nose full of suckage power, and get set to vacuum the kitchen floor. It’s a good place as any to start. I turn around and get prepared, and that’s when I hear the big crash.

Without turning around, I already know what happened.

The shelf that sits so precariously above Henry has finally given way and the symphony of breaking glass hitting wood and ceramic tile sounds oddly pleasing. I turn around to survey the damage.

Luckily, all of the booze (cans and bottles) as well as all of my vinegars and oils are intact. But what has broken is all but one of my flatmate’s wine glasses. Looks like I got some shopping to do.

I clear out the intact bottles and start to hand pick the large pieces of glass splattered throughout the kitchen and when I finish, I look at the tiny pieces in the cupboard resting where Henry normally sleeps. And in the middle of all the broken debris, I see one solitary spider, guillotined by millions of shards of glass.

I look at Henry and chuckle and find the universe proving to me once again that nothing is coincidental.