Mamacita says: I’ve been reminded of this classic fairy tale several times this week.
It started when I got out the Christmas things and found a few broken ornaments. The breaks were simple, so I got out the little tube of superglue, apparently forgetting last year’s fiasco and assuming I would be able to put a drop of the glue on the broken places, fit them together, and have them immediately meld together like raindrops into the sea and just as quickly.
I couldn’t be that lucky.
As I held the glued-together pieces, the glue dripped onto my fingers, and that was the only place it dried instantly. (I threw the pieces of broken ornament away; nothing was going to stick those heads and feet back on. . . .)
The first thing that crossed my mind was “lotus blossoms.” Bound feet. Parts of the human body encased so tightly that all growth was impossible. My mind’s eye watched my fingernails try desperately to grow and end up crammed painfully back into my fingers.
My Facebook friends gave me advice. “Acetone,” several of them advised. That’s fingernail polish remover to some of you folks.
So I went into the bathroom and poured acetone all over my hands.
Oops. I’d forgotten that my hands are currently cut to pieces due to constant dishwashing-by-hand (dishwasher is going to hell, I hope) and exposure to sun whilst taking a prescription drug that expressly forbade the sun. So, ouch.
Feeling like a fool, I went back to the kitchen and did a little more towards the Thanksgiving reunion. Then I remembered. I wanted to cover that grey before my sisters saw me at the Thanksgiving reunion.
So I returned to the bathroom and put color on my hair. With my ungloved hands, because I’m clumsy enough without gloves and gloves, even latex, turn my hands into nonfunctioning mannequin hands. So, ouch again.
Acetone and Miss Clairol in the same afternoon. On hands that looked like they’d been through the disposal.
Good thing I’d already kneaded the bread, huh.
Wow, lesson learned. I felt so much wiser. It didn’t last.
An hour ago I did the same superglue thing again. I suppose the only thing saving me from the hair dye is the empty box in the wastebasket. Also? I’m an idiot sometimes.
Hey, is that a golden goose in that guy’s arms? Wait up.