My grandpa sight is very poor but he still holds in his car and driving licence. The only one to get some benefice from this is the local church where my mom and most close relatives go to light a candle everytime he is on the road on his own. With an excuse or another, they try to keep the car out of reach: the service,a strange noise that requires the car to stay in the garage and so on. During the time I am here the excuse is that I better keep the car in case I needed. The downside of keeping his car hostage is that he is keeping me hostage to run errands with him.
Grandpa hates laziness and chaos, errands must be run early in the morning when it is quiet and it is fresh. In the afternoon there is plenty of time to rest but the hours missed in the morning are forever lost: indulging in bed is a waste.
That said here I am switching the alarm clock off at 8 am. I am supposedly due to go an pick him up by 9 am. He is always early and by experience, if you agree to meet at 9 you can bet he starts to call at 8.30 saying he is ready and waiting, but today it is my turn to be early. I am determined to surprise him, except the surprise is all mine: for the first time in 90 years he had overslept and he is late. I had to wait for over half an hour.I am trying jokingly to say something about it but I am immediately told that one time in 90 years doesn’t really count considering the multiple times I have been already late in my short life. Fair enough and so I say nothing further but silently enjoy the huge satisfaction of having seen him being late at least once in his life.
By eleven we are done with errands and we go for a chat and a coffee, Ice coffee because the heat is now hitting heavily.
Daughter number one is in the countryside at my parents’ and daughter number two is at home with the travelling husband, probably both still in their PJs. No rush for me to go home, I assume. I decided to take some time for myself running my own errands. I stop by a big perfume shop. The only thing I really have to buy is toothpaste but I have a sudden urge to browse around trying on makeup and creams and perfume.
Lots of products and lots of tempting things but I don’t really use much makeup over the summer and so I decide I need a new nail varnish and I focus on that.Too many colours to chose from and too many brands.I pick one and then I see another I like better, but then I see one with a nicer bottle or a more convenient prize:'”Jeez, this is a nightmare!”. I eventually make a selection and I carefully align the possible candidates on the shelf in front of me. While the lucky finalists are there holding their breath waiting to know who will be the winner, the intelligent version of me is annoyed:”seriously did you not have anything better to do?. This is idiotic”.But, actually, no, I have nothing better to do and while still waiting to perform my grandchild duty, I also bought two magazines. Today the frivolous version of me is in charge and all I want to do is going to the beach, reading my magazines pretending I am very interested, even if I am sure not as I am notoriously not a magazine person, and all this while showing off colourful perfect toes. This picture of me like a diva who pretends she doesn’t suffer the heat and enjoys sunbathing is floating peacefully and marvellous in my head. A picture who will never become reality if I don’t pick a bloody new nail varnish. Nothing wrong with the one I am currently wearing but a real diva needs a new one. I had nearly set my mind on a deep light purple/blue with a name impossible to remember when I see the real winner hidden at the back f the shelf. Feeling slightly sorry for all the others I had deluded, I stretch my arm and pick it up.
“Bang”:one second was in my hand and a second after was on the floor. Well, the broken bottle was on the floor because the varnish was only partially on the floor as most of it is splattered on my feet, legs and sandals. The new sandals.
Blushing, feeling ultra mortified and keeping apologizing I clumsily try to help the shop clerk to clean but when I see I am only doing worst leaving pinkish red footprints everywhere, I go straight to the till. They won’t make me pay for the broken bottle but I feel terribly guilty and so I fill my basket with a bunch of nail polish of random colours except that only one colour that I finally wanted. Futile to say that the bottle on the floor was the only one left of that colour!
In total shame, I walk home. People look at me puzzled and probably wondering if I had just finished dismembering somebody or if I am simply very bad at making my own pedicure.
When I got home the travelling husband doesn’t look at me much differently but after I explain what happened his expression clearly change to:”why it is always you!?!”.He graciously doesn’t say anything, but I know and to make it up I proudly show him that I at least thought to buy also a big bottle of nail polish remover. Silently he starts cleaning my sandals while I am peeling off half of my skin trying to remove the colour from my feet and legs. Now I know what they mean when they say “strong long lasting nail varnish”.