Things fall down

The other evening there came a crash like the front porch had caved into the house.  I was upstairs.

Tom yelled from somewhere else: "What was that?"

"Whaaat?"

"What was that?"

"I don't know!" Nor did I get up to look.

Minutes later he stood in my doorway.  "I can't find anything wrong.  I have no idea what that was."

The next morning I discovered that our huge and heavy gold mirror had fallen between the wall and the piano leaving quite a distinguished hole.  Neither mirror nor piano was damaged.

Tom went to Lowe's and bought a new drill and a bigger, better screw.  (Did that sentence come out all right?) Anyway, the mirror is back on the wall.

This morning, another crash, this time from my upstairs study.  My IKEA shelf, overloaded with office stuff, had collapsed onto my drawing table with the guts of filing boxes and woven baskets spilled all over kingdom come-lately.

"What was that?" Tom yelled from downstairs.

"A shelf!" I yelled back.

This afternoon, we went to Lowe's for the third time this week and bought--I don't know--he bought it.  I bought a planter full of yellow and gold flowers.  My garden in front of the porch is put together with large planters mixed between the bushes.  It looks like I've done a lot of work.  No, I just cut off those rubber hanging things.  And I water every evening.

The shelf is back up. It's been a productive week, really.  If we can stay ahead of the all fall down game, we're good.