Carefully

The tray beneath the spigots on the water cooler (emphatically labeled “NOT A DRAIN”) is completely full of water, and the floor is covered in puddles.

I gently pull out the tray, carefully lifting it so as not to add to the general carnage of wet on the tiles, and carry it over to dump it out in the sink, all the while thinking about the innumerable, similar times in my life where, by trying to be careful, I’ve tensed up and made a mess of things.

I feel a certain pride that now, firmly on my way to middle age, I’ve finally figured out how not to be so worried about being careful that I make things worse.

I grab a nearby mop, swipe a couple of quick times over the puddles to dry them out, and return the mop to it’s bucket, where it lands with a satisfied plop.