They say that accidents come in three’s. I have no clue who “they” are, but I’m here to tell you that I have scientifically proven that “they” are absolutely correct. Yesterday, there were no accidents. Day before yesterday there were no accidents. But today – well that’s a whole ‘nother story. Yes, there were accidents and yes, there were three of them. Proof enough for me.


It is with this knowledge that I try never to ask the question, “What else can happen?!” because I have found that as sure as one asks, one receives the answer. I realize now that understanding the first step on the journey down the road to acceptance and serenity, rather than that of anger and frustration, is embracing this equation: For every first mishap there will always be two proceeding mishaps. It’s going to happen, why fight it?


On that note, this morning, I learned a valuable lesson along with proving this theory. Although the beautiful, tall and glistening pour bottles that house olive oils are pretty to look at, they are no match for a 5/8” thick ceramic tile floor. I found this out as my elbow inadvertently clipped my favorite bottle of oil standing next to the stove, sending it crashing to the floor. I believe the word, “explode” would be an appropriate description of what happened to that bottle. Glass was found tens of feet down the hallway, in an adjoining room and in the potted plant that I’m sure thought it was safe on its stand. But the glass was bad enough without all that oil. Do you realize how difficult it is to clean up glass that is surrounded by puddles of clear – and might I add, expensive – extra virgin olive oil? I gently gathered as much as I could with paper towels and then mopped with floor cleaner, as best I could. It was actually a pointless task in spreading the oil thinly into a larger area. I decided to let it dry and then I would tackle it again with grease-cutting Dawn.


It was then that Mr. Fix-It came in to inform me of the second variable to my science experiment. “The well-house is flooded,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s got about four inches of water in it. All of the fertilizer and lime is sitting in water.” I groaned. He had pulled some things out into the yard to let them dry in the heat of the day and I asked him what had happened. Now here, you have to give Mr. Fix-It credit for being a most honest man. He could have told me that wild vandals had come in the middle of the night and turned on the spigot. He could have told me that giant rats, desperate for water, had gnawed through a hose. But no, he ‘fessed up that when he was mowing last night, he had unhooked the hose that goes to the garden watering system without turning off the timer that turns on that watering system. The timer went off last night, as usual, but there was no hose so water just filled the well-house. Mr. Fix-It looked disgusted and I, the very wise woman that I am, knew to keep my mouth shut. He left for work with the cuffs of his pants a little damp, at which point, I returned to prepare for my day of work.


As I wrote in a couple of posts ago, I am easily distracted. One would hope, however, that my brain could process these two simple disasters as having occurred simultaneously, such that my memory would be nudged as I entered the kitchen with the confident step of one on a mission. One confident step…that is. There was no second step since, as I took that first one, my foot glided effortlessly across the oily surface of the floor. Though I tried to use the other foot to stay balanced, it slid with equal ease and both feet flew into the air as my butt hit the tile unceremoniously. I hit my elbow too. Ouch. As I sat there in that larger, thinner layer of oil, I yelled out to no one in particular, ‘That’s it!!!” Of course, you know at that point I remembered the part about that road to the serenity of acceptance. Well, fine. I cleaned myself up and headed to the chiropractor!


It is at this point where, despite the mishaps, I do well to practice that ‘attitude of gratitude’. And so, I am thankful that I didn’t break anything, I am thankful that I now have a sparkly clean, albeit well-oiled, kitchen floor and I’m thankful that the well-house is also spic-and-span. I am also sure that these three incidents will open the door for peer review from my fellow scientists. Look for my published experiment in the next issue of Science Monthly where I am sure the “theys” will certainly be happy with my irrefutable proof of their hypothesis.