I broke 3 dessert bowls last week. It’s a personal best.
One bowl I placed in the dishwasher wrong and it got chipped.
The second bowl I dropped while taking it down from the cabinet shelf. The bowl slipped out of my hand, falling to the floor where, with a sense of drama that reminded me of a 3 y.o. having a meltdown over the way his PB&J sammie was cut, the bowl circled around the floor eventually crashing into the bottom of a cabinet where it broke.
The third bowl, like the other ones, was bone china, a notoriously sturdy substance when not around me. It was part of the now discontinued Lenox Poppies on Blue that was our china when we got hitched. I liked fussier things back then.
This third bowl cracked, then melted/broke, while in the microwave. I don’t know if there was a slight crack in it before I put it in there, but while it was twirling around in the microwave I heard a loud pop.
When I went to take the damaged bowl out of the microwave, unaware that the bowl was damaged, I grabbed it with my right hand and the ceramic was so hot that it burned the fingerprint off my index finger.
Only sort of kidding.
So here’s where I find myself today: I’m a wise, slightly klutzy, woman who realizes, and accepts, that I will probably live the rest of my life a few dessert bowls short of 8 formal dinner place settings, as one does when one is too cheap to replace the broken bowls.
$19.99 a piece? I don’t think so.
Ain’t gonna happen.