I was awoken in the middle of the night by a large, long crash from underneath my room. Being on the second floor, I got my glasses and opened the door to find Mom already on the way down.

As it turns out, the shelf-on-the-wall gave and dropped its fragile pottery load onto the ground.

I almost figured our dog, deaf and sleeping in the same room, would have slept through it, but I saw him awake.

That’s good plates and mini clay sculptures now in the garbage. I don’t even know the amount of damage.

Back upstairs in my room, I can still hear them vaccuming up the possibly painful microscopic shards.

Back to bed, then.

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