This photo of my fingers is not an a-okay sign.  It is my fingers as they appeared yesterday when they were glued together.

Yesterday, at about noon, I posted about my terrible, horrible, very bad day.  I wish I could say that the drama ended at midday, but it just kept coming.

Hubby, bless his heart, arrived at lunchtime to take the grandbaby off with him, so I’d have a breather.  I worked a little, rested for about ten minutes, and then decided I’d go into the kitchen to see if I could repair the chair that had been smashed into smithereens.  (Did I mention that yesterday?  The grandbaby dropped some french fries, the big dog dove after them, and upset one of the stools at our kitchen bar.  It fell over and the back broke in a half dozen places.)

The breaks were mostly clean, so I went into the garage and got a little bottle of superglue (nearly empty), some clamps, and a big bottle of wood glue.  Since only a wee bit of super glue remained, I squeezed it onto a small portion of the wood, then proceeded to slather everything else with the wood glue.  I then clamped/tied the entire thing together and left it to sit.

But before leaving the kitchen,  I noticed that I had gotten glue on my granite countertops.  I knew I had a razor blade in one of the kitchen drawers, so I riffled through packets of taco sauce, chick fil-A sauce (why does my family save these things?), jelly, butter packets, all sorts of stuff we will never use and  don’t need. (I don’t like to save anything that could squish and make a mess.)  But finally I found the razor blade, so I gripped it tightly and began to shave away at the glue that had hardened on my countertop.

The door opened and hubby came in with the grandbaby.  I put my work down to greet them and discovered–ha ha–that my index finger and thumb were glued together.  I was actually amazed, because I have no idea how my thumb and index finger even touched the super glue (or my palms, either, for that matter, but apparently they had.

So I immediately thrust my hands under running water and sent my hubby into the bathroom for acetone.  “What’s that?” he asked.

“Nail polish remover.  A big plastic bottle under my sink.  It’s pink. And please hurry!”

So he came back with the acetone/nail polish remover, which I poured into a measuring cup and soaked my fingers in it–just like Madge used to soak her client’s hands in dishwashing liquid (remember that commercial?)  No dice. I was still glued together.

“Quick,” I asked the hubby, “open that laptop over there and Google how to get superglue off skin.”

Now–you have to understand that my hubby isn’t terribly computer literate.  In fact, a few years ago we received a series of anonymous letters from some hateful person who told me  my hubby was carrying on an affair over the computer.  I laughed ’till I cried, considering that he doesn’t even know how to turn a computer on.  Note to whomever sent those letters:  clearly, you don’t know us well enough to hate us.  But I digress.

Finally–after I’m really beginning to feel the onset of panic–he finds the appropriate page.  I have to teach him how to scroll downward and I see that my options are:  1)  soak in hot soapy water.  Well, that didn’t work.  2) Acetone.  Not working, either.  3)  Use an emery board to file the stuff off.  Um, no thanks. I don’t think an emery board will fit between my two fingers, and I would  like to keep the skin on my finger tips.  4)  Let it wear off.

Well, I need my fingers to function, even those on my left hand,  so I needed to get my fingers unstuck.  I briefly considered a run to the emergency room, but I think they might suspect I’ve become an attention-seeker, so I ruled that out.  So I tried to pry my fingers apart and discovered that now only a small pink membrane is holding  them together.

Hoping that membrane is composed mostly of superglue, I take the aforementioned razor blade, put on my reading glasses, and gingerly slice the flesh between my stuck fingers.  Success!  And I didn’t even shed a drop of blood.

I am  typing this with a healthy coating of glue on my hands and fingertips, but at least I AM typing.  It’s 3:37 p.m., and I am bracing myself for whatever else this day has in store.  :-/

The adventure continues . . .

P.S.  I have to tell you that one of our former middle schoolers (now a delightful married woman and a soldier’s wife) sang on America’s Got Talent with the Military Spouses Choir–she opened and closed with the solo. I am so proud of her–Rachel loves Jesus and is expecting her second baby ANY DAY!  Please pray for them as they advance in the competition.   (You can see a video of their performance on my Facebook page.)

~~Angie