Mara will never know...

I woke up this morning with every possible good intention. I stripped the windows of the kitchen of the old, scaly varnish, and revarnished them. A job that I had been postponing for over six months. As I was waiting for the first hand to dry, I thought that I could give a couple of hands to a little box that I was gifted with last Easter. It’s made like a small wooden fence, with two cords for handles and some wooden chickens and butterflies on the sides. It will make a wonderful toolbox for the balcony. Or, maybe, I should say it would have.
I used the two trestles I had used for the windows. I put the box on them, opened the varnish can, went to get some thinner… and stumbled on one of the trestles. The box fell down and broke. What’s worse, the can fell down. Hit the trestle sideways. Started spinning. Imagine waves of varnish flying all over. Me. The walls. The white flower boxes that I had painted three days ago. The living room tents. The floor.