The Dangers of Living Alone

At Christmas, I hosted my family Christmas party. During the party, my brother Zack informed me that he was reaching for the light switch in my bathroom and hit the item hanging on the wall above it. It, naturally, fell and broke. He just wanted me to know. I checked, it wasn’t majorly broken, nothing I couldn’t fix. I set it aside and promptly forgot about it (This was January 4).

Last night I happened to notice the space on my wall and I thought I should fix that thing. The thing, btw, is a silhouette of a 50s era swimsuit on which the words “When she was good, she was very good. When she was bad, she was even better” are typed. I grabbed it and decided to superglue it back together. I pulled out my glue and the open one was completely dried out. I must not have put the cap back on tightly. I then grabbed a new one and got ready. As soon as I punctured the top and tipped it to apply the glue, there was a small problem.

Evidently, the tube must have either had a puncture or I punctured it somehow. Glue was dripping out of the tube….all over my fingers. In, literally seconds, before I could even process this, EIGHT of my ten fingers were glued to the item in question.

And there I stood. All alone, unable to move. I couldn’t put down the plaque, nor move eight of my fingers. For the curious, my right index finger, which was on top of the clue, and my left pinky, which was just somehow, blessedly, spared.

I did not know what to do. I couldn’t even pick up my phone to call for help. I couldn’t drive a car to go get help. I wasn’t even sure I could manage to open the door to walk to my neighbor’s house to ask for help. It was a disaster. But, I had to do something, so before it could set further, I pivoted and headed for the kitchen sink. Luckily, I had just set water on to boil, so I knew the water in the tap was already hot. I plunged my sticky, immovable, fingers, plaque and all, under the running water. I just held them under the water and kept trying to move them. Before long I got one free. Then another. At that point, I figured this was working (thank GOD!) so I just kept pulling and pulling until my fingers were free. I managed NOT to drop the plaque and injure it further. And somehow, whilst doing this, I did actually manage to get glue where it needed to go and it was repaired. And clean.

I survived, obviously, and spent the rest of the evening picking glue off my fingers and nails. Actually, I’m still picking them this morning. But it was a lesson in humility, or stupidity, I’m not sure.

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