Spilt Milk

Sometimes it takes the whole day to come up with something to say. Tonight, it was cleaning up chocolate milk spilled all over the counter at 11pm to get me to something.
 
I am not much of a night person, so no "crisis" at 11pm is a good thing. What is perhaps four ounces of milk appears to be a gallon. What has merely gone under the toaster and can be cleaned up with a few swipes of the sponge feels as though it will make the whole kitchen sticky for days.
 
Whether at 11pm or not, we are surrounded each day by little things, like spilt milk, that can bring us down in an instant. The bus that is late, the puddle we step in, the coffee that burns our tongue, the earring that falls out and is gone before we even realize it fell. Each day, we can be brought down so easily by one or a series of spilt milk events. And yet, that's really what most of them are--a little spilt milk that can be cleaned up with a sponge. Tiny events that can take over our lives, but only if we let them.
 
The sponge wiped away that spilt milk quickly enough for me to walk away and write about it, all before I fell asleep for the night. Which is a whole lot better than bemoaning some complete loss of order and cleanliness or forbidding milk ever to be poured again.
 
It's just a little spilt milk, after all. And who needs to cry over that?