things break
I went to bed upset last night. I woke up this morning with Whisky on my chest, lightly gnawing on my amber ring from Alaska. It was his way of saying, “Get up! I wanna play. Now!” I sleepily obliged and got him running around the apartment. After he calmed down from the first burst of energy for the day, I got up to make tea.
I put the kettle on, found a clean-enough mug and set about my little tea ritual, which mostly has to do with trying to get the exact right amount of honey into the cup. As I turned to set the mug down, I looked at my hand — at my amber ring. It has about 6 slivers of amber arranged in an abstract-floral-but-also-birdlike configuration. One of the big pieces of amber was gone. Broken off.
I don’t have good luck with jewelry breaking.* I sat down feeling stunned for a minute. Eventually some part of my brain realized that Whisky may have eaten it, but that wasn’t what left me stunned. It made me wonder what else broke with it.
*[tech note: sorry, no style sheets on that old ass post]
