No Crying Over Spilt . . . Peaches

You know that saying it's no use crying over spilt milk?  Well, I'm pretty sure I've never cried over spilt milk.  But on Sunday when I was cleaning this up:

I cried.

(but first I took a picture because I knew I would probably need to vent about this in my blog.)

I cried as we cleaned up those broken bottles of peaches and applesauce because we were scraping days and days of my hard work off the garage floor into the trash can.  It was super lame.

We learned the hard way that the shelving we had for our bottled fruit was not strong enough, and finally after a month or two of over-stress, the shelving collapsed.  Poor Daphne was the first to discover it when she went to retrieve some brown sugar out of the garage.   When she opened the cupboard, all the bottles came crashing out.  I heard the crash from inside the house, followed by Daphne screaming.  Poor thing was scared to death, but otherwise unscathed.

After all was cleaned up and the undamaged bottles washed off and restocked on a stronger shelf, we figured we lost about 1/3 of what we preserved this summer.  Nice way to spend a relaxing Sunday afternoon, right?  And half an hour after we got this mess taken care of, I got to lead ward choir practice.

And I guess I should say that while I had been wishing with every particle of my soul that I could call in sick for Ward Choir, and Stake Choir, and motherhood and home-ownership, and food storage . . . ownership, that after Ward Choir practice, as Arthur and I made dinner together, I was in a significantly better mood.   I even felt excitement (instead of dread) about going to direct another choir practice that evening in preparation for Stake Conference.  As I was thinking about that later, I felt like maybe that was an example of the blessings that come as a result of the songs of the of the heart.  (D&C 25:12)