Here I document yet another I-shoulda-took-a-picture moment. But, alas, with only two hands, and both of them pink, I just couldn’t swing it.
Saturday, 1 pm, sunny, warm, sitting on my screen porch, feet up.
First I painted my toenails. Then I painted my fingernails. I used that Sally Hansen quick dry polish. It is fantastic. It dries in, like, a minute.
While I waited the sixty little seconds, I tried to peel the label off the nail polish bottle. Yes, I cannot even sit still for sixty little seconds. I held the bottle on its side in my right palm, fingers carefully extended, while I attempted to peel the label with the side of the thumb of my left hand.
After three or four flicks of the thumb the label popped up, but my free body force diagram (left thumb vs right palm vs gravity) did not sum to a net zero vector. So, of course, the bottle went airborne. It crashed and shattered on the tile floor.
Now, I can’t sit still for sixty seconds but I can react in a nanosecond.
Solve the problem: get that pink stuff off the floor!
I scooped it all up, pink ooze and sharp glass and ran into the house to the trash can which I opened with my free clean pinky and dumped the mess in. I grabbed paper towels and wiped the pink ooze off (actually, I rubbed it into my skin) and then used more towels and ran back out to do a preliminary wipe of the tile floor.
Decision time: clean up the floor or my hands first? That’s when I saw that my engagement ring was caked in pink. (At this time I still couldn’t tell whether all of the pink was nail polish or if there was some blood mixed in.) Hands first. Floor can wait. (Impressed?)
Into the bathroom. Tried water first. Ridiculous. (The very polar water molecules were frustrated and the dried nail polish network laughed at them.) By now the sixty second dry time had passed and I had my shiny pink tin man hands. Noticed there was no blood (or pain) so was relieved I wasn’t cut.
Used acetone (aka nail polish remover) and a washcloth and started to carefully wipe off the shiny pink that was sealing my skin. All the while I was assessing the level of acetone in the bottle and calculating if there would be enough left after this fiasco to remove the polish from my nails and repaint them–I was going to a 2-year-old’s birthday party after all. Worried that there might not be any acetone left if I ever fully removed the pink from my skin, I was extremely careful with the washcloth to not touch the tips of my fingers. I finally gave up the washcloth and moved on to Q-tips. (I used about 50 of them.)
Sometime during the Q-tip phase I unstuck my rings and pulled them off. I dumped them into a little jar and doused them with acetone. They soaked. I worried.
Also during the Q-tip stage I had the insane desire to remove my contact lenses so I could actually see my skin (I have old-lady close up eyes and can’t see anything clearly in a three-foot radius.) Logic prevailed and I did not touch my eyeballs with my pink fingers. Yes, I know you are impressed with my judgment.
The rings: Clean up of the rings required sacrifice of the pink fingernails. With Q-tips, toothpicks, a needle and acetone-soaked yarn, I got them clean and shiny.
So I survived. Hardly any harm done. But I wonder: do things like this happen to normal people?