Krista Vance/Voices: Getting out of a hairy situation

Krista Vance/Voices: Getting out of a hairy situation

By KRISTA VANCE

Road tripping with the girls: Sigh, it's a breeze.

Give them their electronics, blankets and snacks, and they'll go for hours without complaint.

Sharing hotel rooms not such a breeze.

Thomas and I bunked with Olivia, and the other two shared a room.

Around 3 a.m. on the first night, the hot flashes and listening to my kid talk in her sleep at the top of her lungs was too much and I called it quits. I gathered my book, computer, water, pillows, blankets and snacks, and made my way to the bathroom.

I climbed into the bathtub, made a side table by tipping over the garbage can, arranged the pillows and blankets into a cozy cocoon, and hopped on The Google. I was set.

About two hours in, I was bored.

So I stuck my big toe up the faucet.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I tried to remove my toe, but it wasn't budging. I squished it and jerked, turned on the water hoping the pressure would shoot it out, but all my attempts failed.

I knew Thomas and Olivia would sleep through my yells for help, so I made the best of the situation and turned my side table into a stool, propped my foot on it, wiggled around until I was comfortable, and closed the shower curtain so the lights above the vanity wouldn't shine into my eyes.

Surprisingly, I fell into a deep sleep and didn't hear Thomas come into the bathroom.

He claims he reached blindly into the shower and turned on the water. I'm a bit skeptical. Regardless, I awoke screaming from the cold water spraying into my face. Thomas whipped back the curtain, "What are you doing?" he yelled.

"Obviously, I was sleeping."

He held out his hand, "I'll help you up."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"My toe's stuck."

Thomas looked at my toe and shook his head. "When did this happen?"

"About five," I answered, shrugging. "I was hoping the swelling would go down and it would come free, but no such luck."

Thomas yanked, and not very gently. "Yeah," he frowned, "I think we need to call the firemen."

"Really?" I asked, excitedly. "I love firemen!"

"Don't get all worked up. Trust me when I say you don't have your best foot forward," Thomas laughed.

It must have been a dull morning, because the firemen were staring down at me lickity split. "How did this happen?"

"It slipped," I answered, nonchalantly.

"Uh, huh," a doubting firemen said.

"Okay, fine," I admitted, sheepishly. "I wanted to see if my toe would still fit like when I was a kid."

The fireman took a deep breath and rubbed his face. "Let's talk strategy," he said to his cohorts.

During the discussion about the best way to proceed, I noticed my legs were way past needing a shave. "Thomas?" I whispered. "Can you get me a glass of water and a razor, please?"

"Why?"

"I need to shave my legs," I gave him my no-nonsense look and he handed me the items.

"Ok, this is what's going to happen," a hot fireman explained, "we're going to use a saw."

"You're going to cut off my toe?" I yelled. "You can't do that. I'm dysfunctionally OCD; I'll never survive. What about pedicures? My toes won't match."

"You'll still have your toe," he said, "We're going to cut away the faucet. We're about 90 percent sure you won't get hurt," he winked at Thomas. "Just in case, we're going to suit you up."

They laid a heavy blanket on top of me, and placed a welding mask over my face.

"I'm going to need a bottle of wine," I said, nervously. "I don't care if it's morning."

After the sawing and occasional screams, my toe was free. Thomas handed me a glass of wine, which I guzzled. "More, please," I begged. "Wait. What's stuck to the side?"

"Cork," Thomas said, quickly.

I ran my finger on the inside of the glass. "It's hair. You used the glass I shaved my legs with for my wine?" I yelled. "What's wrong with you? Give. Me. The. Bottle." I said, thru clenched teeth. He did and swiftly backed away.

After several long swallows, I thanked the firemen and was handed a phone number.

"I got his number," I whispered to Thomas, snarkily.

"Um," the hot fireman paused, "my aunt owns a nail salon. A nice shade of purple would match your toe."

"Oh, this is your aunt's number?"

Thomas just grinned.

Krista Vance is a stay-at-home mom in Champaign.

Comments

News-Gazette.com embraces discussion of both community and world issues. We welcome you to contribute your ideas, opinions and comments, but we ask that you avoid personal attacks, vulgarity and hate speech. We reserve the right to remove any comment at our discretion, and we will block repeat offenders' accounts. To post comments, you must first be a registered user, and your username will appear with any comment you post. Happy posting.

Login or register to post comments