The sun rises the next morning and her cheerful beams seem to be dancing all around me. It pisses me off. Jose is still sleeping, which, you guessed it. Also pisses me off.
My mind begins racing at the first glimpse of those beautiful sunny beams.
“Ah. Another day” I say softly aloud, my eyes following the beams of light that are surrounding me. Funny how something so seemingly cheerful and glorious you make me instantly panic. Their glow is a bright reminde of just how much I have to do today.
Another day to potentially fuck up everything. Oh the possibilities.
The familiar buzz of panic and obligation begins to race through me as I forcefully place my feet on the floor. Ugh. You can do this. Just take steps. Act like you know how to walk. Come on you lazy whore!
The name calling seems to work. I start moving at least.
Maybe a shower will help.
Placing one foot in front of the other, Willow, my cat, follows me as I slip into the bathroom and close the door behind me.
Locking the door, I slip out of my clothes too. As I’m doing this, I can feel one of my toenails snagging on my leggings. It’s driving my crazy. Rather than filing it down, I decide that a little drop of nail glue could fix this. Letting my clothes fall to the floor, I reach into the drawer for the nail glue. Just a dab of glue should do it.
Momentarily, the memory of my last encounter with nail glue flashes in my mind, causing me to pause. In my mind, I can still see my hands glued together. I shake my head.
It will be finnnneee, Remember, you’re a whole grown up. Maybe not a fully functioning grown up, but a grown up none the less.
Ignoring the memory, I settle myself onto the floor, naked as can be. Being ever so careful, I add just a dab to my toenail — attempting to piece it back together. Somewhere in this process and I can’t tell you exactly when, my fingers get glued together, but if I had to guess when exactly, I would say instantly. This seems to happen every time I open a glue bottle.
Becoming frantic, I put the glue bottle down, preparing to pry my hands apart. Right about then, Willow lovingly rubs up against me, flicking her tail happily in my direction. I smile at her. She is the cutest.
I smiled too soon. The scene that unfolds in the next few moments plays in my mind, like slow motion horror.
I watch with creeping dread as her tail happily knocks the glue over, spilling its violent contents ever so slowly onto the floor. As the glue continues seeping onto the floor as slowly as Father time himself, I attempt to grab the bottle to prevent further damage. With my hands still glued together, I look like a deranged t-rex trying to get my reptilian little claws around it. Closing my eyes shut, I yank my hands apart, freeing them from their adhesive shackles. My hands begin to sting and I’m pretty sure I saw parts of my flesh dangling from my palms in the wake of my adhesive chaos.
This all unfolds in only a matter of seconds and yet somehow, the glue seems to be everywhere.
As I try to stand, the pants I had shed to the floor only moments before, are now firmly glued to my feet.
Fuck my life. Can this get any worse?
I know better than to ask this. As if one cue, Jose knocks on the door, interrupting my precious moments of adhesive chaos.
“You ok?” He asks me leaning close to the door.
“Yes!” I say eagerly through the door, hoping I sound convincing.
Don’t come in here. Don’t come in here.
My prayers go immediately unanswered. The lock jiggles and he swings the door open. Our eyes meet and I freeze i, panicked with embrassment.”
He takes a moment to soak in my naked body before observing the rest of the scene. His gaze travels from my hip to my feet, stopping only momentarily at my tits. His eye brows furrowing in confusion as scans me up and down again. He says nothing at first and just simply stares at me. A look of pure disbelief flickers across his face.
After what feels like an eternity of silence, he finally says, “Willow does not need to witness whatever this is,” he says nodding to my cat. “And why are your underwear glued to your hip?”
It’s my turn to look down in disbelief. There, on my hip, is a thong dangling in the wind, hanging on by a devilishly adhesive thread.
Well son of a bitch, how bout that.
I hadn’t even noticed them. I was too busy focusing on my pants. How did you not feel that?
I glance up at him sheepishly. “This could happen to ANYBODY,” I insist.
Without saying another word, he shakes his head at me, backing up ever so slowly until he is out the door.
Catching how utterly ridiculous I look in the mirror, I can’t help but laugh at myself.
How can you run an entire business but you can’t figure out how glue works? Not to mention that you can’t even ride a bike. What kind of real adult can’t ride a bike?
The more I think about it, the funnier it becomes to me. Minutes later, as I’m getting ready for the day, I open my purse to find my lipgloss. To my horror, a bottle crazy glue is staring back at me. Who put this there? This is not funny Jose!
He had already left for the office and I’m disappointed that I can’t yell at him in person. A text will have to do.
“Do you think you’re funny?” I demand, only half kidding.
He responds almost immediately.
“Well, I am funny, but I didn’t put that in there if that’s what you’re thinking,” he quips.
“Ummm….it’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” he insists.
Staring at the bottle in my hand, I think surely he’s messing with me.
I take another glimpse at the glue bottle, partly expecting the bottle to vanish into thin air, but it doesn’t. Instead, it’s still firmly in my hand. I run my thumb over the lettering, trying to grasp how it could have gotten inside my purse.
If he didn’t put it in there and I didn’t put it in there, then who did?
Besides, what kind of ghost would haunt me with glue?
A crazy crafter.
Momentarily, I freeze in my tracks. I can feel a cool set of chills, dancing their way down my spine.
That’s impossible, right?
The crazy crafter’s icy blue eyes pierce through my mind.
