Arriving home after work last night, I opened the living room curtains to let in some light. There on the windowpane was a spider, which, obviously, is just unacceptable. So I grabbed a flip-flop and swatted the glass.
And the entire window shattered.
I shattered my living room window with a flip-flop – because if there’s anything I’m made of, it’s unbridled strength.
My first reaction was laughter – the kind that you try to stifle so it winds up snorting out your nose. But then I thought of all the cuss words. My windows are from the 1920s – single-paned, wooden-framed, on tracks with weights in the walls to suspend them open – and they can’t be easy (or cheap) to repair.
I have homeowner’s insurance, of course, and like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. I’m sure that after the joy of paying a hefty deductible, I’ll be taken care of. But in the meantime, I’ve duct taped a mega piece of cardboard over the breach, my slapdash attempt at home security.
They say that women are like tea bags – we don’t know our own strength until we’re in hot water. Well guess what. Women are also like sledgehammers.
Think about THAT.