Being the high-maintenance doxie about town that he is, Lil' Frankfurter cannot use a plastic food dish. He demands a ceramic dish because anything else is just uncouth. And Lil' Frank shows his displeasure by chewing any and all plastic dishes that might disgrace his kennel.
So, when his ceramic dish broke, it was a dire situation. But, being a DIY diva, I can fix this, right?
I washed the 2 pieces of the bowl ... and sliced my hand open on the jagged edge. Then, after some serious blood loss, I bandaged the carnage and opened my new tube of super glue ... which promptly exploded all over my hand and the kitchen counter.
I managed to glue the dish, realizing as I pieced it together that 2 of my fingers were glue to each other, and the side of my hand was glued to the counter top.
I am a winner. I also should not be a spokes model for super glue - unless the super glue people have a sense of humor and would welcome me saying stuff like, "Super glue? That shit sets fast" while I was glued to, you know, my kitchen.
2. Lack of air conditioning causes insane dreams.
You know what's neat? When it's still 90-some degrees on a daily basis, and your gajillion-year-old HVAC system completely dies. Like, gonna-replace-the-furnace-and-the-AC-and-some-duct-work kinda neat. Like, gonna-eat-ramen-for-years kinda neat.
But in my feverish attempts to sleep in the heat, I have had some amazing dreams.
Evidently, I am auditioning for American Idol.
And, evidently, My Guy and I went on a cruise, but didn't actually have a cabin on the ship. And so he abandoned me for a family that had a big cabin.
He refuses to apologize for this. He keeps saying something about dreams not being real, or some such nonsense.
3. SNL has rotted my brain.
All through the PBS coverage of the Democratic National Convention, I look at Gwen Ifill ...
I blame Tina Fey.
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4 comments:
Hopefully the glue helped to seal the wound!
Sheesh. It's just one weird thing after another for you lately, isn't it?
Glue always makes me nervous.
I feel your pain on the AC thing. Having the same problem, looking at giant estimates for thousands of dollars while sweating my ass off and crying over the ghetto bathroom that will be with me a little longer now that the money will be diverted to AC. My sweaty dream was about bees attacking me. It was really just the dog snoring in my ear. It's too hot to be in Texas with no AC - I don't know how the pioneers did it.
I have dreams the likes of which Speilberg would make gazillions if he could tap my brain. And that's without super heat. I can't even imagine what I'd come up with if my brain were slowly cooking in 90 degree evening heat!
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