Shattered

Last night, our cooler blew a wheel on the way home from the Grove. This morning, as I was cleaning it, I discovered that our bottle of Cathead vodka had broken as I dragged the cooler home. I gingerly rescued the remaining items from the ice water, and discarded the cooler.

This afternoon, as I was walking into a gathering of friends, I stepped on an empty beer bottle, sending shards of broken glads in every direction.

This evening, at the aforementioned function, I broke the top off of a bottle when I used the wrong end of a pointed church key.

A year ago this morning, I picked my friend's belongings from the shattered remains of his windshield.

Until today, that was the last time I'd encountered broken glass. God has a funny way of reminding you about what's important.