Tension at the dinner table. I wish I weren’t so nervous. The spilling is just a bad memory. But my conscience was bothered like it just happened now. No use crying over spilled milk, but I do.
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I have a little short story that this post reminded of. It’s not related to childhood but when I was in my late teens or maybe 20.
I moved out when I was 18 years old and bought a house. Shortly thereafter, I let my cousin move into the spare bedroom.
One day, he brought home this crockpot full of chili that his dad had made. Only a small portion of it got eaten. So, for whatever reason, he set it on the top this long shelf in the kitchen near the ceiling. We soon forgot about this crockpot.
So, months later, I don’t recall how, maybe somebody was moving something the shelf or something, it got knocked down, spilling its contents all over the kitchen. The floor , the walls, the counters, the stove, the fridge, etc. It was a pretty large crockpot and still had the bulk of its contents when it was knocked over.
Omg the stench and disgusting mess it created was just …well…something I will never forget. It took us a long time to get rid fully get that mess cleaned up as it was everywhere. I think my cousin came close to tossing his cookies when we cleaned up.
A slightly nostalgic story, since both my uncle and this cousin are gone now. My uncle passed from old age, and my cousin died from a fall when setting up for a college play.
Anyway, theres my story.
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I was talking to my mom in my room and told her I couldn’t stand my aunt’s cackling laugh today and guess who walked in the room before I finished… 
I bet she heard… Oh well I’m a nut anyhow I thought
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