sean's major strike.

In the wee hours of the morning, Sean had the luxury to break the punchbowl into gazillion pieces. It was a statement, in a way, because the rest of the plates, soup bowls, and glasses broke with it. The plan was to let the punchbowl plunge, let it smash indiscriminately, and create a loud bang as an aftereffect. It was perfect, I must admit.

We now have nine plates left of different sizes, color, and design, a tall glass, a short glass, two small coffee cups, a couple of mini soup bowls, and a saucer. Spoons, forks, and knives don’t break so there still there. The best thing: Sean got away with it.

The morning after, Sean went to my room and slept on my bed. Gago lang. The poor thing felt something was utterly wrong. And for us, shopping for dining implements tops our weekend to-do list.