Monday, 29 August 2011
Listen, I'm not here to tell you about Jesus. You already know about Jesus. Either he lives in your heart or he doesn't.
When I woke up this morning my glasses were not on my nightstand, which was very, very bizarre because when I wake up in the morning my glasses are ALWAYS on my nightstand. See, because every single night I fall asleep reading and then every single night Scout kicks me in the kidneys when she's sneaking under the covers and so every single night I wake up and take off my glasses and put them on my nightstand. It happens on occasion that I don't wake up at all in the night and so sometimes my glasses stay on my face and sometimes they fall off on my pillow. But always they're there beside me. Every morning.
Well, this morning, I looked all up in the bed and around the bed and under the bed. I even turned my duvet inside out because last week I found my car keys in the dishwasher which proves that my house sometimes eats my things. But no, my glasses were not in my duvet.
So I tracked down my spare glasses and for reasons inexplicable I figured I'd go ahead and fix the wobbly arm with some super glue. It was 5:00 a.m., by the way. My eyes were open like the way a newborn kitten's eyes are open. But I got out the super glue anyway and repaired my spare glasses without a hitch. JUST KIDDING! I GLUED MY GLASSES TO MY HAND!
The Internet had some suggestions, so I whipped up some glue-loosening potion and settled back into bed with my iPad to finish season one of Mad Men while my hand soaked itself free. Only, Peggy Olson shocked me so hard that I dropped my iPad onto my face and it busted open my lip. So my lip was bleeding and Scout was trying to poison herself with the glue-loosening potion and I was swearing to beat the band, and apparently writhing all over the place as well because between my cry of "balls! balls! balls!" I heard CRACK! and guess what it was? Yep: My lost glasses.
This week's Collective topic is: Worst haircut story. And you know what? I don't have one. Because I never remember to get my hair cut.
After reading the preceding paragraphs, I think you'll agree it's the least of my worries.
Posted by Heather Anne Hogan at 3:42 pm