The Pizza

I don't know if I've posted this picture before (probably, let's be honest), but this was one of the funniest things that's happened in a long time. Carson brought it up the other day and I just had to search for the picture. 

Here's what happened:Carson was really excited about this frozen pizza. It had been a tough week or a busy season and he was just really looking forward to relaxing in the guest room/office and eating this pizza. I was in the bathroom or other bedroom doing something else. Meanwhile Carson was in the happiest mood, talking about his great pizza and how excited he was to devour it. The oven went off, he put it on a plate and headed on his merry way into the guestroom to eat the pizza. 

Suddenly, I heard a wail of grief. "Oh noooooo!" cried brokenhearted Carson. I rushed in to see what was the matter, thinking surely he was seriously wounded and maimed. He wasn't physically hurt, but his heart had broken. He was standing at the doorway, plate still in hand, looking mournfully at most of the pizza. The offending food had escaped the clutches of the plate and had blissfully smacked into the door and slid down it, before somehow rolling and landing in polka dot pattern on the carpeted floor. For too long, Carson stood there in shock, holding a lone slice on his plate. 

I did not react well. 

Instead of recognizing the gravity of the situation, I saw the humor in it, and my reaction was ill-timed. I burst into laughter and doubled over in mirth. My poor husband, still processing the untimely death of his long awaited meal, turned his head slowly and looked at me in shock as if to say how dare you laugh in a time like this? although he was unable to form words at all. Instead of attempting to comfort the mourner, I grabbed my camera and captured the moment. As I enjoyed the moment, Carson moved through the different stages of grief and landed on a brief stage of anger, which manifested more like frustration, which I now totally understand. I was unfeeling in his time of need. 

The pizza cleaned up just fine and surprisingly left no traces, which I felt was honestly a bit gross. Now I wonder what else had been disguised in that carpet from who knows how many years of prior tenants. The pizza, cloaked by who knows what from who knows whom, was indeed consumed that day. Carson soon forgave me, although his joy that day had been squashed.

Just like the pizza.