.early dishes

I sustained an unnecessary injury yesterday. Matt (who coined "Sara Lee is a babe") sent a trolley rolling across the kitchen, right into my achilles tendon. I fell down, still holding a pan of sphagetti. I thought temporarily mean thoughts about hyper 16 year olds. When I opened my eyes, I saw Matt with a look on his face that said "she is either dead or she may murder me". I was not and I did not, but I have a big bruise and no skin on my heel. Lance juggled knives to make me feel better while I begged him loudly: "Please, oh please put the flying knives down." He cut himself. He put the knives down. How I love managing shifts!
Today I witnessed a first...The dropping of a stack of plates. They are 25 bucks a pop. It's sort of fun to see 300 dollars crash on the floor, I won't lie. I was, however, glad it wasn't me. It was like a white porcelain waterfall and a metal concert all in one...the glass shattering seemed to last forever. It was during bible study. I'm imaginging prayer...
Dear Father God, please bless the kitchen. Give them wisdom to do their jobs efficiently (CRAASHcrashSHATTEReeep!CRAAAShcrashsmash)
...amen.
I may quit this job yet. Every day I want to, but the long bike rides every night save me. So do grapes. I love grapes. My father, who knows everything, has told me to think about it and he will support my decision. He also insults my employers at every opportunity.