What Was THAT?
Sitting quietly on the couch, the tv humming with a TBG-approved sporting event, my eyes and my self buried in a Tana French novel , there was peace and serenity. CRASH!! TinkleTinkleTinkleTinkle..... We were on our feet and frantic. It doesn't take much to set off our PTSD, and loud, unexpected noises are triggers for both of us. Our heads were swiveling around, trying to locate the source in a house whose curves and angles and open floor plan distorts locations and flummoxes even the most efficient seeker of sound. There was nothing on any of the kitchen counters; we'd cleared them and emptied the dishwasher and nothing was out of place. Nothing could have fallen. The cabinets were shut; nothing fell out of them. Looking inside and on top failed us. Then, we looked down. The floor was scattered with shards of glass. They were everywhere, but where did they originate? The Thanksgiving decorations were neatly stacked in the niche; ...