And I broke it to smithereens.
And to add insult to injury injury to insult, I cut my hand up in the process. Of course.
Most were tiny superficial cuts. No big deal but they sure helped earn more sympathy from the bystanders in my kitchen. I did have one significant cut that worried me. A nice flap, about 3/4 of an inch in length that sat right at the base of my thumb, close to my wrist. Of course. Because we all know that cuts near a joint heal so easily with all that movement going on.
So, as everyone scurried around me, very efficiently sweeping up glass, holding children at bay (why is it that children are drawn like magnets to a scene of disaster that they could easily get hurt in too?! Seriously! They come out of the woodwork at the sound of breaking glass! But that’s a topic for another time), vacuuming and moping up every last fleck of injury-causing glass splinters, I stood there, paper towel clamped to my wrist, inwardly wringing my hands at the thought of my sister-in-law’s broken glass bowl. I was frantically trying to remember who gave her the bowl set and therefore the sentimental value possibly attached to it. I was distraught at the thought of a memory I couldn’t replace. Oh, I would replace the bowl alright. Even if I had to scour Ebay for months in the wee hours of every morning. But what if my my precious mother-in-law (who passed away suddenly 8 years ago) had given her the set?! My heart absolutely seized up and refused to beat at that thought. Seriously.
My sister-in-law of course was amazingly gracious, turning down my offer of the same bowl in my own set, and joked about setting her dad on the hunt for a new bowl, since he always has to have something to hunt for.
Sorry. Did my title say a conspiracy? Oh! Yeah! That’s right. There is one. I promise. It’s coming up…
Hubby and I quickly glued the cut together and steri-striped it for support. In the process, we realized that I would need to go buy some more First Aid glue since what we had on hand was drying up. Shock of all shocks, we actually haven’t had to use it at all the last 6 months! That’s a record for us I’m sure.
And herein lies the conspiracy… thanks for hanging in there for so long… Me? Long winded? Naahhhhh!
I can’t find that darn glue anywhere! Not grocery stores, not pharmacies, not corner markets, not street corner drug dealers… (I KID on that last one!)
It’s gone. **POOF** Gone!
Wake up! Wakie, wakie! **shaking computer monitor** Rise and shine! Here’s my theory finally!
I think the Government has pulled all the First Aid glue off the store shelves.
**Gasps of Horror**
Why would They do this? Well, I think it’s just one more step of Them pulling power away from individuals and keeping it to Themselves.
If we can’t glue our own flaps of skin together at home, we’ll be forced to spend hours in the ER, waiting to be seen by an overworked, exhausted doctor (if you’re lucky) and billed for hundreds of dollars by our insurance company for months down the road.
There! I said it!
I’m already designing my protest signs.
“Let Us Glue Ourselves!”
“Hands Off Our Superficial Wounds!!”
“I May Have Had Less Training But I’ve Had More Sleep!”
I know there have to be much whitier slogans to write but I haven’t had my second cup of coffee after being woken up 8 times last night by a toddler with nightmares… err, I mean, umm, my fingers still waking up from my 18 hours of REM sleep last night?
Yeah! That’s it!
What would your sign say?
Please pipe in if you know where I can get some First Aid glue. Like, serious glue, folks. Not that Liquid Bandage stuff. It’s great and all but only for covering wounds, not holding skin flaps together while they heal.
Meanwhile I’m going to stock up on regular ol super glue. Next thing you know, the Government’ll catch wind that desperate wounded people will resort to gluing their gashes with Super Glue. Then **POOF** it’ll silently disappear off the store shelves too.
Mark my words.
Just remember you heard it hear first.
Note added: No that’s not my pyrex collection in the picture at the top. But I wish it was. I think I’d sit on the floor and just stare at it all day and let the dirty lowly plastic dishes pilled up in the sink. That picture is just beautiful to me.