The perils of mosaics
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In an effort to meet new people, and become
the toast of social circles about town, I decided
to sign up for a mosaics course a few weeks ago.
Deep down I had always wanted to take a stab
at mosaics. So to speak.
Little did I know about the perils involved in taking
up this ancient craft! Our teacher assured us that
we would walk away with a completed project at
the end of two weeks. (Or die trying, I now think).
It was quite simply, the blitzkrieg of mosaics courses.
A week and a half into my course, I seemed to
be the only one in the class of four, that had managed
to slice open their fingers at each of the three-hour sessions.
I had even started carrying around spare bandaids in my
handbag for any unfortunate incidents involving
a tile cutter and a mosaic tile.
Since our time was very limited we were encouraged
to take our projects home and complete them.
So, being the diligent student that I am, I sat in the
living room on the couch, cutting mosaics tiles into
the small hours of Sunday night.
It was on Monday night however, that tragedy struck.
I had done so much the previous night, that I felt I
could just sit back and relax a bit. So it was as I was
sauntering towards the couch to flop down and watch
a DVD, that I felt a stabbing pain in the sole of my left foot.
I had unsuspectingly stepped into one of the pieces
of tile that was lying on the floor from the previous night.
I sat down to inspect the damage and there it was.
A piece of tile had lodged about half a centimetre into
my heel. So of course I had to be brave and pull it out,
at which point blood started gushing from the
gaping wound.
(Ok, so I might be using a bit of artistic license to
recreate this dramatic scene for you).
I hopped to the bathroom on my good leg, leaving a
trail of blood as I went. Half an hour later I had
managed to stem the bleeding and had stuck multiple
bandaids over the throbbing wound. I just hoped
that I would not end up contracting gangrene.
My hopes for being the toast of the social circles of
Dubai would be dashed.
As I was mopping up the bloody trail of destruction
caused by the mosaic tile, I came to the inevitable
conclusion, that perhaps I should really quit while
I'm ahead.
Meaning, quite literally before I decapitate myself,
or at the very least before I lose a few of my digits.
I'm now thinking of taking up Arabic lessons next.
I figure that at the very least I'll come away from there
with a few papercuts, or at the very worst with
some verbal abuse.
