If you've ever wondered...

 if boiled wheat sticks to the wall like cooked pasta, yes, yes, it does.

It is one of those days.

At lunch, I made the mistake of ripping open a bag of boiled wheat instead of reaching for a knife or digging the kitchen scissors out of the drawer.  The bag very kindly and obligingly opened, from the top alllllllll the way to the bottom in one smooth tear. Cooked wheat flew up like a fountain, sticking on the wall, raining down in the ceramic jug where I keep my utensils, sliding down between the wall and cabinet unit, pattering to the floor.

Not having yet recognized it for "one of those days," I made gazpacho for supper.  I unscrewed the bottom of the blender to clean it, and it slipped out of my hand, banged against the faucet, spattering soup everywhere, on the wall, in the sink, on the clean dishes in the drainboard...

Aren't disasters known to run in packs of threes?

I am supposed to be packing; wrapping up decorations and knickknacks is on the list.  I'm rather afraid to handle anything breakable right now, though.

*waiting on the next mess*