The Antichrist that Ate the Taco

I forgot to turn off the oven
before I walked out the door
from my home,
before I walked off into my car
and drove into the sun,
before the car reached the edge
of this earth, and before
the car flew off into space.
"It's just the little things,"
she exclaims as she pushes her
chair out from the dinner table,
and the chair keeps on sliding
till it breaks down the wall,
skids across the pavement,
breaks into other homes,
and falls down an abandoned well.
"Nothing is easy," as we both agree
stabbing each other with the kitchen
utensils. Both of us did not
want to wash the dishes.