In a dither

I was tired, but still in a pretty good mood, right up to the moment the gravy spilled.
It was turkey gravy, homemade. It spilled all over the floor of my car, and slowly covered both my bible and my journal. M' had been in charge of keeping the food upright on the way home from house church, but he got distracted by the ambulance. The ambulance came down the street with lights on, so I pulled over, and M' dumped the gravy.
In his defense, he did make a sort of helpful gesture, as though he intended to do something. At a time like that, though, it's better if he just doesn't. I'll do it myself.
It was disgusting.
How can something which had appeared so appetizing an hour before, suddenly resemble the product of a recent illness?

So, once again I come to you worn out, without the energy to write. You are going to hate me, and leave me for one of those fancy bloggers with actual content.