“Lisa, you shouldn’t be allowed to have nice things.”
This is something I heard from my parents nearly every day of my childhood. Apparently I couldn’t be trusted with liquids and carpet. Clearly my parents didn’t know that hardwood floors are the classier way to go, and my frequent spills on carpet were attempts to entice them to upgrade their home.
They never once thanked me for that.
(FYI: I have hardwoods in my home now and they are much easier to clean up spills. You’re welcome, mom and dad.)
Somehow, this prohibitive phrase has been passed down from my parents to my husband. I suspect this occurred when my husband asked my dad if he could marry me, and my dad then spent the rest of the afternoon trying to talk him out of it.
My dad’s a good guy that way, and Matt can’t say he wasn’t warned.
Most of the time, this regularly uttered phrase is both accurate and appropriate. Admittedly, I say it to myself, most frequently after I accidentally back into something with my car (those trash cans come out of nowhere every Monday morning).
However, just because it may be true most of the time doesn’t mean I like that it is.
Whenever I manage to destroy something (which is about once a week), I fess up immediately. There’s no point in trying to hide the damage, as it will eventually be discovered and everyone will look to the girl with the Kool-aid stained mouth as the culprit of the accident. (The word “girl” here is loosely used.)
It’s not a far leap. (A leap, incidentally, is how I caused the Kool-aid stain on the carpet. Note to self: A leap of any kind, no matter the distance, is impossible when done in heels while holding a beverage. Lesson learned.)
But with my newest “uh oh,” I didn’t want to tell my husband right away. Lately he’s been more irritable about my totally-not-at-all-preventable accidents. He’s so judgy.
As you may recall, the face of my iPhone shattered recently when it came into contact with my friend’s driveway. (Rather, the more accurate explanation is that her bully of a driveway came out of nowhere and smacked my iPhone around until his face broke. I suspect this wasn’t the driveway’s first offense.)
That broken iPhone face was a bit of a traumatic event, not only for the iPhone, but also for my pride. I had no choice but to fess up to my husband about the damage, mostly because he was with me at the time the assault occurred. The wounds from that injury are still somewhat fresh.
So this morning when I grabbed my iPad and noticed something wasn’t quite right about it, I didn’t dare mention it to my husband. I was pretty sure he was still irritated about the demise of our last Apple product, and I knew he wouldn’t want to know about the new “boo boo” on my iPad.
As with the iPhone, the screen was in distress; although unlike my iPhone (RIP sweet baby boy), the screen wasn’t cracked. Rather, red, green and blue colors swirled on the screen, creating a look quite psychedelic in nature. I felt like I should pop in a Pink Floyd album and just enjoy the screen. I doubted Matt would be on board with this though (he’s more of a Deathcab for Cutie kind of guy).
I also didn’t want to go all the way out to my car to grab the CD. That would require pants.
Instead, I immediately double checked to make sure the Tylenol PM I took the night before wasn’t swapped out accidentally with hallucinogenic agents. I can’t tell you how many times that’s happened.
Fortunately for my spinal column, the Tylenol PM wasn’t laced with anything. Rather, it appeared as if the iPad screen broke when I gently dropped it on the floor the night before. (This is one of those times where carpet would have been preferred. Those hardwood floors can really kick you in the balls, or in this case, in the iPad face.)
The previous night I fell asleep while reading my hilarious blog. As I dozed off, I gently dropped the iPad a few inches to the ground. Apparently doing that affected the screen, making it look like a black light poster.
Although I certainly enjoy feeling trippy while reading USA Today on the iPad, I didn’t think Matt would enjoy it, so I knew I had to fix it. But how? I figured I would google how to fix it on my broken iPad. I felt that somehow, using the problematic iPad to locate the solution would demonstrate to the universe my willingness to help. (It would also demonstrate it to my husband as well, which would hopefully ease the blow.)
I found a video of someone tapping the iPad with a hammer and in the video, the tapping fixed the issue. Since it was on the internet, I knew it had to be accurate, so I decided to give it a try.
Who would lie on the internet about hitting an iPad with a hammer as a mode of fixing a problem?
I located a hammer and quickly began hitting the iPad in the locations suggested by the video. On the second tap, the screen restored itself and it’s completely back to normal!
The best part is that I don’t have to tell my husband that I broke the iPad, although I will definitely have to tell him I lost his hammer. (I’m not walking all the way down to the basement to put it back.)
So if anyone asks, nothing was ever wrong with the iPad, and everything is just fine. On a more exciting note, I now know if I need a tough question answered, I can go to YouTube and find some very informative answers. What do you think they will suggest for how to fix a broken heart?
Yeah, I would definitely recommend vodka for that too.