As night follows day - what are your inevitable (small) disasters?

I just had to mend my safety glasses with superglue. Ah yes, superglue - I don’t think there has ever been an occasion when I have used it and not stuck myself to something.

This time I managed to stick two of my fingers together. But I’m so used to this now that I have the soapy water ready before I start.

So: what are your inevitable (small) disasters?


Anything involving a tiny screw also inevitably involves dropping said tiny screw into the carpet regardless of protection measures.

Had two, recently.

  • Dropped my car’s key( less ) fob on the concrete floor. No external damage noted, but it no longer worked to lock/unlock the doors. Pulled it apart and found the battery retainer/terminal broke off the small circuit board at the solder. Re-soldered. Glad there were other breakage that would require a new fob.

  • From the “don’t push your luck…leave well enough alone” files. I have a fitted vinyl cover over my backyard patio table/chairs set, and after heavy rains it tends to droop in places ( in the gap between the table and chairs ) and collect sizeable pockets of water. I then grab the cover on each side of the pooled water and pull it taut with gentle motion to flick the pooled water off. I did so with increasing deftness knowing the effects of the weather/sun had on the cover, and then “RrrrriiiiiiiiPPPP!” The gallon or so of water cascaded through the 2 foot long breach and on to the teak furniture, and on to my pants from the waist down. I looked like quite the incontinent sort.

I can’t keep sunglasses. They always break. Once I even ordered three identical pairs just because I knew they would eventually get broken or misplaced. Now I don’t even bother wearing them anymore.

This is kind of esoteric, but occasionally I end up buying an old model, glued together with all the enthusiasm for glue that a ten-year-old has. When prying it apart for rebuilding, it’s inevitable that I’ll end up plunging an Xacto knife blade into my thumb.

Similarly, all my adventures with those tiny circular saw blades you can use with a Dremel mototool end the same way: Badly, with copious bleeding.

For what purpose, parts for other models?

That’s the sort of inevitability we’re looking for - keep up the good work! Saw it coming, knew it was going to happen - and, I’d like to think, did everything possible to avoid it - but always the same painful outcome.

Also, JB99, I completely empathise - I bulk buy and scatter hoard cheap sunglasses, but nothing ever helps.


If I drop a black wire stitch marker from my knitting onto the floor, that’s it, goodbye, it’s gone. It might reappear a week or so later, but that’s no use when the place you dropped it was the doctor’s waiting room or the bus or some other place you won’t be revisiting soon.

I have literally had to switch to brightly colored stitch markers rather than black just so that I’ll have a hope in hell of picking one up again after I drop it.

Usually the “glue bomb” is a rare kit that I intend to restore.

We have a saying around this house…the job is not truly complete until blood is drawn!

Yep, I have a giant black hole of lost tiny things under my house. In there you will find earrings, pills, screws, needles, pen caps, nails, fingernail clippers, rubberbands, the thingy off a milk lid, buttons, the odd teaspoon, cat treats and one VERY important baby tooth.

We call my mother “the admiral” because she’s incapable of having a meal without giving herself a medal.

This is awesome. My mother-in-law was the same way.

“Every time!” she would exclaim every time.

What does, ‘giving herself a medal’ mean?

Bragging about her own cooking? Huh?

I’ve never heard it before, can someone decode it for me please?

At least ONE ice cube will always make its way to the floor.

And the phone always drops between the seat and the console.

I actually remedied that second part by buying inserts that fit between the seat and the console to prevent that from happening.

Also, stupid cat will always be under foot when the lights are off.

Dropping food, which falls on her considerable bosom, staining the clothes. Give the woman a tub of buttered popcorn, by the time she’s done she looks like a member of the Chiefs of Staff.

My Siamese cats swear the world is ending every morning. About 6 effing-o-clock.
It doesn’t matter if my prone body is bleeding to death. Breakfast MUST be served on time.
Promptly and with a smile on my face.
Obviously by looking at the cats they haven’t been fed in years. So close to death, poor things. I may have to do intravenous nutrients. Someone call kitty 911, asap.

Our cats have SPCAES on speed dial.

I have never used a zip-knife, the utility knife with the snap off blades, without cutting myself.

Food is on the burning stove. I should patiently wait by my bubbling pots and sizzling pans. I don’t. I’ll just do something else for a few minutes. What could happen?

Overcooked veggies and slightly too brown baked stuff, that could happen. And it always does.