The wheel is still spinning

This prompt is thanks to some old friends I had in high school.  They used to say, "The wheel is still spinning, but the hamster is dead." 

It's just a variation on, "No cups in the cupboard," but the imagery of it is so much more ... dramatic?

So, in honor of old friends, this week's prompt is:

"The wheel is still spinning, but the hamster is dead."

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My response:

I stood at the counter.  The kitchen smelled of french fries and chicken nuggets, and the air was heavy with evaporated oil.  I could feel it settling on my cheeks and forehead. 

The sounds of children playing rang out from the other room.  At least, until a shrill cry pierced the playful chatter.  It was McKensie.  I waited.  The cry died down and the chatter resumed. 

Crisis averted.  For now.

I looked down at the cookie sheet covered in foil.  I wouldn't need to wash the cookie sheet, the foil was still intact.  I'd just have to throw away the foil.  I reached down.

The red casserole dish still sat on my counter.  I counted the days.  Six.  It was about time I get it back to Jennifer.  Mom always said to never return an empty dish.  Maybe I should bake cookies tomorrow ...

I looked up at the spatula I was trying to stuff into the vase that held the larger utinsels on my counter.  The rubber handle was sticking and didn't want to go in.  Then I noticed the french fry crumbs and a few smears of oil on the end.  Why was I putting a dirty spatula away?

I looked down at the cookie sheet, still covered in foil.  I had meant to put it away, and it didn't need to be cleaned ...

I yanked the door of the dishwasher down and tossed the dirty spatula on the top rack, glad that it hadn't gone into the vase easily.  At least the greasy top hadn't touched the rest of the utinsels.

Then I reached for the cookie tray, yanking the foil off.  I kept it in the pantry/laundry room just a few feet down the hall from the kitchen, so I headed there, intent on putting it away. 

I glanced into the living room as I passed the doorway.  The kids were more playing than cleaning up, but at least I was going to be able to get the dishes done.

The door of the pantry swung in with a squeak, and I tossed something into the dirty hamper.  Then I stopped.

Why had I just tossed a balled-up wad of tin foil into the dirty clothes hamper?

I blinked. 

The cookie sheet still sat on the stove.

I snatched the tin foil back out of the dirty clothes and tossed it into the trash can.

I stalked into the kitchen, picked up the clean cookie sheet, turned and walked directly back into the pantry, and put it in the pile of flat baking impliments.

Cursed cookie sheet.