The ear doctor is an only child. And he is a very coordinated only child.
Growing up his family was close friends with another family. A loud, child-filled, chaotic family. A family that had a "spiller". Every time the ear doctor's family went over to share a big dinner with these friends the inevitable would occur. Either the milk glass was poised a little too close to the table edge or the casserole dish was too heavy for little hands to securely pass. Whatever the impetus, the result was flying food...usually into someone else lap.
This so frustrated the child version of my fastidious husband that he remembers the angst to this day.
Fortune is a cruel, cruel mistress.
As much as I hate to admit it, he married himself a spiller. (the horror!)
This week I've been really trying to work overtime. Translation = multiple meals this week have been consumed while taking in this view:
Which, for a spiller like me is quite precarious. Electronic device poised directly below the take-off strip from bowl to mouth? A recipe for disaster.