It was easy to imagine that summer had begun here in the Northeast. Under a cloudless sky, with just enough of a breeze to keep the insects at bay, we hit a downright tropical 84 degrees. The humidity had to be low, as the artfully spaced (yet haphazardly placed) ringlet curls I’d created this morning are still hanging in there.
Please appreciate the fact that the above was taken after an entire day outside with nary a hairbrush in sight, so be kind.
Today was the mother of all barbeque days. We could literally see the smoke rising from virtually every house we passed on our way to…you guessed it: a barbeque. Good food, great company, with no shortage of Coronas or laughter….all in all, a fabulous day.
Upon arrival home, we were greeted by our prancing, caffeine-inspired puppy…who acted as if he’d been left alone for 6 days instead of a mere 6 hours. After the Metro-required carrot and a trip outside, I glance out the double kitchen windows at what little remains of the seed in the bird feeder.
That’s when I notice that the thermometer’s gone MIA. Again. It’s one of those handy-dandy “Taylor”-made round numbers, with the suction cup on the front. (How could I not buy something that clearly has my son’s name prominently displayed on it?) The problem is that it won’t stay on the window.
It goes like this:
- I take the step stool out and place it in front of the kitchen sink.
- I then remove the screen from one of the windows.
- I crank the window open as far as it will possibly go. This gives me enough room to squeeze my hand, which is clutching the thermometer in a death grip, through the crack on the right side of the window to stick it on, for alas…this window cranks open only to the right and I need the thermometer on the right hand corner of the right hand window.
I don’t know why. I just DO.
For approximately two days, I am blissfully glancing at the temperature whilst doing the dishes and then after about two days, it’s GONE. Just a circular dirt-mark on the glass where it once clung. I send Connor outside to retrieve it (it falls almost 2 stories, in case you’re wondering why I don’t just stick it on from the outside) and the process begins once again.
This should be a small thing, but it’s really starting to BUG me. It’s one of those stupid little things that you never think to mention to anyone, but tonight I happened to say something while on the phone with my dad. You know what he said?
The water’s evaporating…that’s why it keeps falling. Put some petroleum jelly on it…that should do it.
Now why didn’t I think of that?
My dad would say not petroleum jelly, but moisture. Just lick your finger and rub it on the inside of the suction cup. Or if it's clean, lick the suction cup itself, and stick it on there. That should do it. And much easier to clean off the glass if you should ever want to wash your windows (though I can't imagine wanting to wash windows).
Now I'm jealous. My husband won't let me put my suction cupped angel on the window anymore!
Yep...couldn't you just see me...strapped to some gurney, dangling off the roof of my house. I'd have a bottle of Windex in one hand, a roll of paper towels clutched between my legs (think thigh-master, only not as effective) and my phone pre-programmed to dial 9-1-1. All the while muttering and cursing out that stupid suction cup.
As far as a husband not allowing s suctioned cupped angel on the window, I'd have him re-think that one. I'd be worried there'd be some serious heavenly/cosmic retribution coming his way...isn't that a form of angel discrimination? But maybe that's just ME.
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