The Silver Tape
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Photo by Scott Webb from Pexels |
The entire familial unit was down recently for a visit, and I was braced for the usual volley of criticism. However, aside from the well-deserved declaration that my room smells of cat pee (I'm lucky to have an impaired sense of smell), and some unwarranted comments about how I laugh "like a hyena", all was smooth sailing.
I mentioned that I needed a new cat carrier, because the one I'm using has a hole in it big enough to fit a skinny cat (read: Lydia). Predictably, my parents jumped at the opportunity, especially since the carrier had previously belonged to them.
"It was fine when I gave it to you," my dad declared confidently. "What did you do?"
"It was not fine," I snapped back. "The hole was there when I got it."
"No, it wasn't--" he began, as I went to the offending carrier and turned it around to display the hole. And there, for all the world to see, was a crucial detail I'd completely forgotten about.
Around the gaping circle at the bottom of the carrier was the remnants of some very incriminating silver tape, used at one time to cover it up. Obviously, this was no lasting solution, because cats.
"There!" I finished triumphantly. "When you see that silver tape, you know Daddy has been in the neighborhood."
We all burst into laughter, because my dad got his hands on a roll of silver tape once some ten or fifteen odd years ago and has been using the same thing on everything that needs fixing since then. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that parts of his precious bikes are held together with silver tape.
"Oh, I remember now how this happened..." began Dad.
"Oh, yeah, now you remember. The fact is, if that tape hadn't been there, you lot would still have been pinning this on me."
Cue more laughter, because true story. I guess it's a good sign that we're able to laugh about these things now.
I mentioned that I needed a new cat carrier, because the one I'm using has a hole in it big enough to fit a skinny cat (read: Lydia). Predictably, my parents jumped at the opportunity, especially since the carrier had previously belonged to them.
"It was fine when I gave it to you," my dad declared confidently. "What did you do?"
"It was not fine," I snapped back. "The hole was there when I got it."
"No, it wasn't--" he began, as I went to the offending carrier and turned it around to display the hole. And there, for all the world to see, was a crucial detail I'd completely forgotten about.
Around the gaping circle at the bottom of the carrier was the remnants of some very incriminating silver tape, used at one time to cover it up. Obviously, this was no lasting solution, because cats.
"There!" I finished triumphantly. "When you see that silver tape, you know Daddy has been in the neighborhood."
We all burst into laughter, because my dad got his hands on a roll of silver tape once some ten or fifteen odd years ago and has been using the same thing on everything that needs fixing since then. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that parts of his precious bikes are held together with silver tape.
"Oh, I remember now how this happened..." began Dad.
"Oh, yeah, now you remember. The fact is, if that tape hadn't been there, you lot would still have been pinning this on me."
Cue more laughter, because true story. I guess it's a good sign that we're able to laugh about these things now.
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