Yesterday I had one of "those" days. You know the ones I mean. The kind where all my dishes should be unbreakable plastic and the knives should be dull. The kind of day where being wrapped up in bubble wrap actually sounds appealing instead of confining. The kind of day where I really would be weaponless in a match of wits.
This morning promised to be more of the same.
For my new job I have been asked to provide a criminal background check. Here in Europe it's the employees' responsibility to provide this. Doing it from here is a little complicated. I think I have to go through the FBI. They want fingerprints. Apparently my word isn't good enough; they want physical proof that I am who I say I am.
To do this I needed to find somewhere here in Italy that can take my fingerprints and either give them to me to mail with my application or send them electronically to the States. Luckily Leif has a member of the Carbiniere on his cycle team. (I swear they have one of every important job on their team....lawyers, policemen, cafe bar owners) He sent him a message and waited for a response..
This morning, after my day from hell yesterday, I was washing up the breakfast dishes and dropped Leif's coffee cup. His ultra-special, home town, edged in gold coffee cup. It didn't break, thank goodness, but I did chip the rim on one side. I felt terrible and told him I'd fix it. I didn't promise as good as new, because I know how these things work. I tried to stay a little fuzzy on the outcome and pointed out that he drinks with his right hand which means that he doesn't drink from that side of the cup anyway so perfection isn't absolutely necessary, although desirable.
I got the glue out and studied the cup carefully......for a really, really long time. I was kind of hoping that it would magically heal itself. Which of course it didn't. So as Leif made his phone call to his police friend I cautiously got out the glue, took a few deep breaths and went to work. I put on the first part which is sort of like a magic marker and is supposed to prepare the surface for the glue. I watched the clock with one eye and Leif with the other. The phone conversation seemed to be going well. The guy remembered him anyway. As I put the glue on the cup and pressed the chip firmly onto the spot Leif hung up the phone and said, "He says to call him whenever we want to come by and they can take your fingerprints."
He looked so happy I didn't didn't know how to tell him that I just glued my left forefinger to his favorite cup. So I didn't. I ripped my finger off the cup as gently as I could and looked at the superglue covering my finger. No, not my finger.....my fingerprint.
It may be several days till we attempt to have my fingerprints taken. The glue will wear off eventually. Or I could bring in the cup, which appears to have a very clear image of my fingerprint on the rim.
Tomorrow will be better, right?