How's That Saying Go Again?

Let me set the scene. Hubby and I had a delicious dinner last night followed by some ice cream at the local dairy. While we were there we picked up a new jug of chocolate milk. We made our way home, enjoying some delicious chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream with the knowledge we would be able to enjoy chocolate milk all week. Or so we thought. 

I walk in the door, and as I'm preparing to walk up the stairs I dropped one of the plethora of napkins I had picked up at the dairy. I'm notorious for making a mess so I was trying to be prepared eating ice cream in the car. Unfortunately, my stack of wispy, thin, ice cream shoppe napkins would be no match for events that were about to occur. 

I stoop down to pick up the fallen napkin lowering my purse and the milk jug to the tile floor as I do. I hear a crack and then much to my surprise liquid starts pooling at my feet. I look over at the milk jug in my hand to see that the bottom half is gone. It has shattered on the floor sending all of it's thick, chocolatey, milky goodness every which way. I stand up and stare for a second or two at the giant mess that is filling our entryway, almost unsure that what I'm seeing is actually happening, before I shout "I need help!!" to my husband who was getting the mail. 

Lucky for me, I have the best husband who rather than freak out at the mess that was on the floor, the door frame and the new rug, merely burst out laughing as he saw my predicament wondering aloud, how on earth I managed this. I insisted that the glass shattered without any force on my end, although he still finds this explanation a bit suspicious. He grabbed me the paper towels (which as it turns out were not the right tool for the job) and I began attempting to clean up the mess. Please note at this point, I am still holding a half-eaten ice cream cone. Here is where you readers are in for a treat. My sweet husband decided it was a good opportunity to snag a picture as I tried fruitlessly to contain the spill. 

This seems like a good place in the story to let everyone know I don't own a mop. Which up until this very second had not been a problem. I have a good vacuum, I have a broom, I have swiffer with both wet and dry pads. I thought I was all set until I was trying to sop up a 1/2 gallon of milk with paper towels. We did manage to finally get it cleaned up (with the sacrifice of a few old towels) and the rug went through the wash twice coming out good as new. 

So in the end, the only real damage was to my pride and my chocolate milk inventory which is now 0. No use crying over spilled chocolate milk right?

This month I am linking up with "Two Writing Teachers" for a slice of life, daily writing challenge.