Sunday, April 02, 2006
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb
Ever do something so dumb, that you wanted to smack your head against the wall after you did it?
Have a look at the photo to the left. (Ignore the icky windows, I don't wash the outsides during the winter and I was busy today). You'll notice that the second pane down is darker. Crisper. Missing perhaps.
I was on my way upstairs to get laundry, and the kids were tapping on the glass. After I hollered at them to knock it off, I was informed there was a moth there. So on my way by, I put my sweater up over my palm, and went to knock the window just enough to scare the moth away. Well, hundred year old glass (or 160ish if it's never been replaced) is very thin and brittle it would seem. Like in a horor movie, my hand went through that window in slow motion.
The tinkle of glass hitting the granite stoop tinkled like icicles falling off a roof in the winter. My hand came back through unscathed, and then I started to laugh. More because my kids were laughing hysterically... and partly because it was so absurd that my hand would go through that window, that I almost couldn't believe it. The boy came to take stock of the situation, and then disappeared to find something to block it up with. My non-functioning brain rationalized that no one else should have to clean up my sharp glassy mess, and I got to work.
The whole time I was thinking to myself, I should have gloves on. I got all the loose pieces out, and thought I should stop. Just a few more wiggles, I thought, maybe I can loosen these up. I sliced my finger. Not to deep, not even enough to bleed. More like a paper cut that didn't quite cut. I should've stopped then. Should've. But didn't. Right as the boy came back out into the room, with the words "Do you have gloves on?" coming out of his moth, I sliced a chunk out of my finger. Now, not only do I feel like a moron for breaking the window in the first place... I'm bleeding all over the place because I was too dumb to put some stupid gloves on. I knew better. I didn't want anyone else to get cut cleaning up my mess, and so instead, I am missing a bit of my finger. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
This is what you get when you have a boy who loves you. Who doesn't say, " I told you so" even though he's told you a hundred thousand times not to knock on that glass when you are trying to scare away the pigeons. Effing pigeons. It's all their fault. The only thing that scares them away, is the smack of a hand on glass. The window was probably week because I've whacked it about a million other times. Much harder than I hit it tonight. Effing birds just keep coming back. So that was the ending to an otherwise good and productive day. And now I'm going to take my bruised ego, and my gradually worsening sore throat, and watch some Housewives. Their problems are a lot worse than mine.