Meeting the Parents & the Perils of Super Glue

~ There are no grades of vanity,
there are only grades of ability in concealing it ~
Mark Twain

I don't even know where to begin ....

This is the second week that my son has been away from home this summer and I get all out of sorts when he's gone. Just when I'm getting used to not having to cook, not having to go to baseball, not having to do anything, it's almost time for him to come home.

Last night was the first night during the two weeks that I've had to myself. No work. No friends. No having to be here or there or doing something for someone else.  There was a baseball game however, and I wanted to go see my son play. So, on my way (unusually unrushed), I stopped to pick up a bag of soil for a few summer bulbs that I have neglected to plant, hoping that they will grow just enough to feed the bulb for next year.

So, there I was, happily home after a baseball game with my 30 litres of  soil waiting to be used up outside on the patio.  I tidied a bit, and potted my bulbs. Before closing the patio doors and getting ready to snuggle in for the night, I stood back and admired my work. I needed to get ready for bed, after all, tomorrow was a big day. I was taking my friend's mother to the art gallery and out for lunch. Since we had only just met a few days before, I was a bit nervous about being on my own with her.  In addition to the we've-just-met-jitters, I only speak English with very limited French and Spanish.  She  speaks Dutch and French  and limited English. My spoken  french (that I thought was not so bad until a few days ago actually) stinks.  On top of that, I wasn't going to be driving my own air-conditionless car. I would be driving my friend's car - a car I have never driven before. I laid awake reminding myself to adjust the mirrors.

I awoke with the sound of my alarm. It felt good to sleep in a little bit, and looking forward to spending the day with this lady at the art gallery. I pressed the snooze button for half an hour. Indulgent bliss. It would be a good day I decided, and then I got out of bed.  I staggered to the kitchen in my light blue summer nightie and put the kettle on for a cup of tea.  I opened the patio door , and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.  There was a nice cool breeze, and the birds were chirping. I filled up the watering can and watered the plants. To my relief, the squirrels (I hate squirrels) had left my newly potted bulbs alone, and in that moment, the world was good. Just in that moment.

Back into the bedroom I went to pull out my outfit for the day, and to the bathroom to brush my teeth. The kettle long past boiling switched itself off as  I showered and dressed.  I was relaxed putting on my eye makeup, thinking of when I bought it with my friend for her wedding.  I strolled back out into the living room, hoping to boil the kettle again and finally have my first cup of tea.

To my left, just outside my patio door, only the width of a pane of glass away from Leonard, my killer giant cat (ok, lazy, spoiled cat), was a squirrel with his little, guerrilla warfare paws clenching one of my bulbs...and chewing it!!!!!! I ran to the door and the little commando took off with the darn bulb! Finally he dropped it (it's an elephant ear bulb about the size of a small teacup) and ran up a tree to be with the rest of the little hairy satans. ARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!! I hate squirrels. I retrieved the bulb, shoved it back in the dirt, and went in to find some cat hair to put over top in an effort to keep the vigilante squirrels away. I hate squirrels.

No time for tea. No time for breakfast, a quick coat of my fingernail polish and out the door. Oh. Wait. My sandal looks like the lining is separating. I'll just give that a quick dab of super glue, and it'll be right as rain.  Right. I rambled through a buffet drawer, careful not to smudge my nail polish,  and found the just-in-case bottle of super glue that I always keep in stock, just for occasions like these. I'm so smart.

My pretty black and white polka-dot sandals needed some TLC, and I was going to give it to them.  Oh poop. No hole in the super glue.  In the same drawer as the super glue is a collection of miscellaneous "speciality" utensils. My fingers blindly grabbed a salad fork. Perfect.  I poked one tine in the top of the glue tube, and holy hell, grab your grand kids, was that glue ever under pressure. No sooner had the fork pierced the tube than the glue escaped like Mexicans over the border, and right into the corner of my left eye!!! (I still haven't figured out how to truly convey a screaming sound with words, but if I could, I would do it right here!)Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! Blinded in one eye, with the fork lodged somewhere in the wall, and the tube of super glue stuck to my left hand, I ran back to the bathroom.  Oh! My! Gawd!

The glue had mercifully missed the white of my eye and my contact lens, but had managed to spray under my eye, on the inside by the tear duct, and on every single one of lashes on the bottom of my left eye. I very calmly said the f word.

Now, here's the irony. As a funeral director, I have had the very uncommon experience of using superglue on human skin.  On purpose.  So, I knew that after it dried it would be easier to peel off.  I walked back to the door, eye glued shut and glue tube adhered to my left hand.  I pried the glue out of my hand, and fixed my sandal.  It's important to note here that the sandal has a high heel. In other words, it slopes down toward the toes.

I walked to the kitchen with the tube now glued to my right hand, eye still glued shut and said a good old fashioned Gaelic curse as I threw my emergency superglue into the trash. Damn glue. Damn fork. Damn shoe. I went back to the washroom, and as any practiced embalmer would do, I took to the tender flesh around my eye with spring forceps (aka known in the real world as tweezers). I think the skin around our eyes  is roughly the same composition as foreskin. Boy does it stretch!!! 

I could only get most of the glue out of my eyelashes by actually pulling my eyelashes out. My carefully applied eye make up no longer looked so very carefully applied. I looked like I had three months worth of morning boogers in the corner of my eye, and that I'd been crying for as long.  With most of the glue removed, and my sight still in tact, I made my way back to the door, slid my feet into my sandals, and then remembered - MONEY! I need to go get some cash.

Off came my left shoe, off came my....off came my....Oh for flip, frigging, mother of gawd's sake!!! I glued my foot inside my cute black and white polka dot sandals. I wanted to cry. I wanted to kick those flipping sandals through the patio door, past my newly planted bulbs, right up the tiny arse of one of those satanic- rodent-devil squirrels! After what I'm sure the neighbour who was walking his dog outside of the patio doors thought was a very elaborat dance routine fit for a Vegas stripper, I decided that I would just leave my foot glued to the sandal.  After thinking about it some more, and staring at my foot hoping that by the grace of some funky, white, hoodo, voodo magic my foot would come unglued, I decided that I'd better free my foot in case the occasion required. With my luck I'd end up being required to take off my shoes for a strip search after rolling my friend's car and scaring his mother half to death on the highway.  I finally managed to pry the ball of my foot out of my sandal with a butter knife. Note: bring your own cutlery next time you eat at my place.

The entire way to the house, I was trying to chew the superglue off my fingers so it wouldn't look like I had the worst case of eczema on the planet. The sandals looked great by the way.