One step too far

There is a certain brilliant feature of my kitchen that I have been overjoyed with since we first saw this house.  My yukashitashuno (yew-ka-she-ta-shoo-no, try saying that 3 times fast!) is such a wonderful invention.  It is a box in my kitchen floor that uses the cold air from under the house to keep food cool year round, similar to a root cellar.  It is just over 2 feet square.

Since moving in, I have taken full advantage of having this extra storage space.  I like to keep my Japanese cooking essentials (large bottles of sake, mirin, and soy sauce), apples, pasta, and jars of various things (like maple syrup, peanut butter, and chili oil).  I appreciate the convenience of it.

Whenever I open it and someone else is in the kitchen, I always proclaim "don't step back" or "the floor is open!"  After all, I wouldn't want someone to fall in!

But tonight, I didn't have someone to remind me.  I was the one cooking.  I was the one who opened the darn thing.  And I was the one who stepped in it. 

I was making soup for dinner and had opened the yukashitashuno to grab some potatoes.  I should have closed it immediately, but instead I was focused on my task and immediately started peeling and chopping.  I went to drop the potatoes in a bowl of cold water, and took a fateful step back.  I immediately went down and went down hard.  The knife went flying.  Potatoes went all over.  And I was sprawled on the floor feeling not very bright.  As I gathered my pride and my body, I looked down to assess the damage.  There at the bottom of the yukashitashuno was a very large crack. 

Now I had really done it.  What was I going to do?  I quickly texted my husband forewarning him that I had a little oops, so he wouldn't be surprised when he got home.  When he walked it, he looked at the crack and immediately started researching replacement inserts.  The crack was at least 4 inches long in a crescent shape.  After calling three stores and not being successful, he went to take a closer look.  He disappeared while I put the final touches on dinner.  He returned after a few minutes with some superglue from the convenience store (where would we be without them?) and quickly got to work.  He was able to glue that big crack, saving the day.  Then he put the insert back into the hole in the floor so the crack was near the hinge of the door instead of near the opening.  It now resides under the basket, where the lighter weight stuff lives.

My ankle didn't fare as well, and has been throbbing all evening.  I'm sure it will be fine.  But for the time being, I'm just going to pretend that I hurt myself doing something awesome and not stepping into a big hole in my kitchen floor that I had created.