Lets just say that when I finally worked up the mental strength to leave my bedroom and take the two or three steps to the bathroom, I saw my dad coming up from the basement wearing these awful, big yellow rubber boots and thick pink rubber gloves, holding what looked exactly like the ornate curvy silver soup ladle my mother would ceremoniously dig out and place religiously on the table every Thanksgiving, whether we were having soup or not. Soup or no soup it was placed smack dab in the middle of the table every year. I just saw my dad with it for like half a second, out of the corner of my eye, but Im positive thats what it was. He had one pink rubber gloved hand kind of cupped underneath it to apparently prevent whatever was in there from dripping out. I had to get out of there. I just had to.
