careful what you wish for

Some time this evening, the mood swings/depression aspect of Clomid hit full force. Of all things, it was a broken showerhead that set off my first cring jag. Ezra came home a few minutes later, and at least five times within the next half-hour I shouted at him, broke down in tears, or both. I don't even know what had me so upset, but I was aware enough to realize that my reactions probably resulted from a combination of wacky hormones and too little sleep. During one of my more lucid moments, I asked Eza whether I could have something glass to break. I wasn't serious, of course, but at that moment I felt like nothing would ease my foul mood more than chucking a vase or bowl at the wall.

Eventually Ezra got me to calm down a bit. We resolved to go out for a quick dinner (as I hadn't bothered to start cooking) and then go grocery shopping together. He printed out the list I'd compiled earlier, and I took it into the kitchen to double-check on a few of the items - no need to buy doubles (or triples) unnecessarily! I already had my shoes and coat on, ready to go out the door as soon as I'd finished reviewing the list. I had just taken the baking powder out of a cabinet and was about to open the canister to check on quantity when a colorful flash caught my eye.

It was the cup from our beautiful silver-and-glass havdalah set...tumbling to the floor. The cup had been sitting on the counter, not particularly close to the edge but bot exactly back in the display case where it belongs. I don't recall jostling it with my elbow for anything - as far as I can tell it leaped to the floor of it own accord. But I didn't react quickly enough, and by the time I even had the presence of mind to drop the baking powder, the glass had shattered into a million pieces and all I could do was scream and wail.

Why coudn't it have been one of our everyday drinking glasses? Or even a stem of our fancier crystal? Or a piece of china? Why did it have to be one piece of a set, so that every time we see the tray with its spicebox and candleholder, we notice what is missing? Why did it have to be part of a wedding gift, probably irreplaceable? Why did it have to be something we use every week, not just for havdalah but for kiddush as well, and will certainly miss? Come on, God, would it really have killed you to have put something else in the way of my elbow?

It's silly, really. Getting so hysterical over a broken object, when I have a broken repoductive system to worry about instead.