I have this certain way about me, a specific mannerisms, movement, flow – it’s called KLUTZ. I can fall on the floor when I’m sitting on the floor. Now that takes a special talent. I wonder if there is a position for that particular endeavor.
I know sometimes I buy stuff that’s out-dated or from the dollar store or another bargain basement facility. It’s embedded in me – the need to purchase stuff at a discount. Most times there is a reason things are sold on clearance or at reject stores. And I flock to them like a moth to a candle light as soon as he gets in close proximity of the candle his wings catch on fire.
I mean super glue is super glue? Right? No expiration date. If it was all that old and dried out it would never spurt out of the top. Okay even if it was old it shouldn’t stick – should it? Don’t I have the answer to that sticky question?
The darn directions on the mini size little itsy bitsy package of super glue are impossible to read – not even under a magnifying glass. So you can’t fault me there. How did I know the top needed to be screwed back on? Hello…. And I shouldn’t have squeezed that teeny-tiny little tube so hard. That was the prelude.
It happened so fast and my knee jerk reaction which was really my right hand just moved ever so quick and grabbed that paper towel. Not a good choice and I am aware of that now. I learn from my mistakes – oh boy do I ever - at least 50 percent of the time. I rarely produce the same foolish act twice. I like a multitude of disasters – keeps the home front hopping. Not that I should be hopping with my injured foot. I should be applauded for keeping off my foot that isn’t really injured but just healing. But it is soooo boring being a couch potato.
I decide to become a jewelry artist and create my masterpieces sitting down with the not hurt but healing foot propped high in the air. A difficult position to be in when you’re trying to use super glue a pair of pliers and holding little round slippery beads all while trying to reach over to the other side of the work bench to grab that root beer soda. I need to mention that the chair has casters that move fairly fast.
After the incident where the super glue gushed out like Mount Saint Helens into my willing left hand – of course I reached for the roll of paper towels. I didn’t want to spill any of the super glue on my nice wooden work bench. Paper towels were probably not the best choice to make – we need to make good choices boys and girls. Heard that line before. Let’s weigh the pros and cons here – fingers glued together or a glop of glue on the work bench. I’ll ponder that a bit.
The good thing is it was my left hand. That’s good right? I think so and I’m sticking to it – wait I already did that. So now I have three fingers on my left hand webbed together covered with a paper towel and it isn’t even Bounty. Not that it really matters what type of paper towels one has glued to their hands. They weren’t quilted.
I’m a big girl so there is no need for sissy girl tears and my right hand can still pound away on the keyboard and find a cure. I search the internet. AHAH. Nail polish remover. I run to the bathroom and rip apart the cabinet tossing towels and q-tips all over the floor. I have cotton balls – I’ll need them. Way -way - far in the back of the cabinet under a pair of foam shoe innersoles and a used ace bandage I see a bottle of nail polish remover. Lavender scented – how nice. There is exactly two teaspoons of lavender scented liquid left.
I open the top very careful because I will need every drop of this nasty smelling stuff. I pour it over my fingers and rub fast and furious. One finger has escaped. No more lavender scented nail polish remover. Back to the computer.
Vinegar will loosen the glue. Okay! I find a fresh bottle of red wine vinegar sitting ever so peaceful on the kitchen counter. It’s not granite but hey – I am satisfied with laminate. It’s very strong smelling red wine vinegar. I wonder how much it costs. Not that cost matters in this life emergency. Hubby will not be happy when he spots all his red wine vinegar has disappeared.
Rub a dub dub a half of bottle to go. Oh – the stench. I grab the nail brush and bear down hard. Is that morsels of my skin dropping into the sink drain? No – it must be the paper towel. Ah another finger removed from its neighbor. But they feel funny and sticky and slimy and sealed with something that is rough. Back to the computer.
Spray with WD 4 0 and rub and yet another strange odor to assault my nostrils clog my arteries and cause me to hallucinate. I’m about ready to gag and not on a spoon. I pick at pieces that may or may not be my epidermis and drop them into the garbage disposer. I scrub incessantly with the nail brush and about 50 percent of the super glue has been whisked away. Whisk is not the correct word but it has rhythm.
I lather my hands with soap the foaming pump kind that lives by the kitchen sink. The soap is mint green and it clashes with my kitchen walls but such is life. I’ve never been able to get the green foaming soap that matches my walls. Iffen (it could be a real word)I ever did then no one would see the light green spots on my walls behind the faucet.
The super glue has come undone along with about a quarter inch of my skin but skin is hardy and will regenerate and soon I will be as good as new. Not really new-new because I shop at Big Lots. My hands feel sort of like sandpaper or an old wooden dock along the water that gives free splinters to unsuspecting bare feet. Been there – done that.