Umm, Yeah, That About Sums It Up

I apologize for the overwhelming funk that has been hanging around my recent posts. I've realized the misconception may be that I'm coming apart at the seams due to it being day number 381 since the husband left. While that blows in it's own right, the gigantic, dark, thundering cloud following me around is fairly unrelated.

So, let me sum up the general theme of life in the Longest Year household lately with one tale from tonight.

I have approximately 569 things to get done tonight, but I just picked up some cute embellishments for the scrapbook today and wanted to stick a couple on. I figured I could play for a half hour or so and then get started on everything else.

I'm working away, everything spread out on the dining table. I grab the glue to paste the first one on. I take off the cap, flip it upside down, and squeeze. Nothing. I shake it a couple times and squeeze. Nothing. I put the cap back on and bang it on the table. Take the cap back off and squeeze.

And it explodes.

Everywhere.

There is now glue on every surface in a ten foot radius. On the walls. On the carpet. On me. On my nearly new table. And worst of all . . . on every single page I've been working on.

Three hours later and my carpet is soaking wet, but mostly glue free (thank you, Woolite Oxy). The walls are wiped down. My table is no longer sticky. My hair is wet from the multiple washings it took to rinse the glue out.

However, there were multiple casualties of the paper kind. I managed to salvage only five pages. A few others may be helped by pasting stuff over the spots. But the rest . . . I've put them out of sight to keep from thinking about it.

And to top it off, I've got a lovely chemical reaction all up and down my arms from where I got covered in it.

Fantastic, eh?

"Shhh, mama, I saw you open that bottle of Bailey's you keep in the kitchen!"