My husband asked me what I was doing. I told him I was making a valentine for my glue gun.
A slight droop in his dead with steadily shaking shoulder from laughing was the result.
Then he said, “Remember that guy on You’ve Got Mail that’s always talking about his typewriters?”.
He doesn’t get it. A glue gun isn’t the glue that holds our lives together. It’s the instrument necessary to produce the glue.
Without my glue gun there’d be no last minute patches glued on the Awanas vests 5 minutes before walking out the door for the awards ceremony. All the art on the walls would be purchased instead of glued together in some haphazard yet classy arrangement that pops – that’s a money saver right there. Without a glue gun I would have fingerprints and what large crimes can I commit with fingerprints? None of the bank robbery kind. hmph.
So he can make fun of my glue gun love. But I know a true love when I see one just like I knew it the minute I laid eyes on my husband. Then I knew it again when each of my kids were born. And once again I know it everytime I plug in the glue gun to fix something I broke.
Happy Valentine’s Day.