Super Glue and “I love you!”

                                                                      By Dave Hamby

              Have you ever done something that your spouse just won’t let you forget about?   You know what I’m talking about, that time back, you know, when you—ha ha hahaha!

              For me it had to be the time I glued my fingers to the windshield of my wife’s minivan.  

             She had one of those Dodges with an inside rearview mirror that was always falling off.   I was tired of paying the glass company $12 for the privilege of having a mirror for a few months, so I went down to Auto Zone and bought one of those do-it-yourself adhesive kits.  

             I followed the directions on the kit carefully and after pressing the base with the proper mix of glue firmly to the glass for sixty seconds, I discovered I couldn’t remove my thumb and forefinger from the glass.   I ‘d only been sitting there, in the driver’s seat with my hand stuck to the windshield, for about 10 minutes when my wife happened to come outside.  

            “Hey honey, could you do me a favor?” I asked real sweet like.   

             “Sure,” she replied cheerfully, “What do you want?”  

             “Could you go in the garage and get me a razorblade?” I queried without letting any sense of urgency creep into my voice.  

            “Why do you want a razorblade?” she shot back, still cheerful.   “Have you been working on my car so long you need to shave?”

             “Would it be asking too much,” I asked with my patience straining,” for you, once in your life, to do something for me without having to know every detail about why I want it done?”  

             “Yes,” she replied with a frown, “that would be asking too much,” and turned on her heel and went into the house.  

             She was only in the house for a few seconds before she came back out and said gleefully, “You’ve glued your fingers to the windshield, haven’t you?”  

            “That would be correct,”   I replied reluctantly, “ Now could you please get me that razor blade.”

            “This is great,” she said grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Give me a second to get the camera and then I’ll get you that blade.”    She came back out frowning. “Darn, we’re out of film.   You wouldn’t consider driving me one handed to the store so I can buy a roll, would you?   I mean, I’d go myself if you weren’t occupying my van.   Of course, then I wouldn’t be needing the film that bad, would I? Hee, hee, hee!”  

             I told her wouldn’t, and after only ten or fifteen minutes of pleading she gave in and got me the razor blade without recording the event for prosperity.  

             Now to add insult to injury, after cutting my fingers loose and installing the mirror, it fell off when I slammed the door.

              I’m told every dog has its day, and to that end I’ve kept a video camera with a charged up battery and a blank tape waiting for the day she gets her hair caught in the dishwasher or something like that.

              Till then though, I have to listen to her tell anyone who’ll stand still long enough to listen about the day I fixed the mirror on her van.

This story originally appeared in the Round Rock Leader as part of a longer article.   It was that article that won me an award from the South Texas Press Association.   This version has been modified and is available for your publication.