Absurd Mental Snapshot

I was two at the time, and someone I have no recollection who, had placed me thoughtfully to side of the living room in the hard wood floor. I lifted my miniature white spoon and scooped up the clumpy, cottage cheese carelessly, putting the spoon in my mouth. I was not adept at eating, so instead of putting the cottage cheese in my mouth, the clumpy white paste ended up on my nose and on my chest. I did not notice the mess because when I looked up, I watched as huge, beer bellied, men walked down the hall, straining to carry our piano out the door. My house was empty; my family and strange men were carrying boxes and furniture. Before this day I did not realize that furniture could even move, and more importantly, I had no clue why we would want to move it. I was certainly confused about the purpose of the bare house. Why was my mother mopping the space where the cough should be? The smell of pinesol disinfectant tickled my nose. I had the nervous feeling like I was in the doctor's office, so I stayed sitting on the floor waiting for a shot.