Why Swishy is an idiot
(Installment No. 23,457)
I follow the same exact routine before I go to bed every night: wash face, take out contacts, look at my eyebrows to see if anything needs plucking, stare at my teeth, stare at my skin, brush my teeth (sometimes), floss my teeth (sometimes), swipe baby oil over my eyes if there's still makeup, put on eye stuff, put on moisturizer, clean ears with rubbing alcohol, put on regular lotion. Oh, and sometimes Carmex. But only if my lips are dry or I think I'm going to be making out with a cute boy.
So my sister calls me crying the other night at, like, 1 a.m. because she and the boyfriend no one likes have (for now) broken up. I'm listening to her like the good big sister that I am, but it IS after 1 a.m and I DO have to work in the morning, so after a while I put her on speaker phone while I listen to the blow-by-blow of their fight and get ready for bed. The contacts are out, the face is washed, and I reach for the cotton balls and rubbing alcohol. I get the cotton ball nice and soaked, reach up to clean my earrings ... AND START USING IT TO TAKE OFF MY MASCARA.
Yeah. I'll give that to you again: I rubbed a cotton ball SOAKED WITH ALCOHOL all over MY EYE.
It was funny, because way, way back in my brain, a little red light started flashing and a little siren started going off--like when I smelled the alcohol--but it just did not register. At ALL. Until, that is, my freaking eye caught on fire. I'm standing there, horrified, as my eye melts into my skin, and all I can think is, "Holy shit, I'm going blind and I can't even say anything because then my sister will know I wasn't paying 110 percent attention to her domestic drama and ... HOLY SHIT, THIS HURTS!!!! I DON'T WANT TO GO BLIND! HOW WILL I KNOW IF I HAVE STUFF ON MY FACE? HOW WILL I MATCH MY OUTFITS? HOW WILL BE ABLE TO TELL IF A GUY'S CUTE? AND WILL IT BURN MY SKIN AND LEAVE ME HORRIBLY DISFIGURED, TOO???"
And I'm literally, like, half-crying on the tile, thinking about how at least I'll have my vision in my right eye, and I can handle that, because when I broke my cheekbone in high school I only wore one contact for months, when it occurs to me to flush my eye out with water. Because, clearly, being quick on the uptake is one of my many strengths.
So I turn on the faucet and start scooping water into my poor red, trembling, oozing eye. And, several minutes later, I can finally open it again. And I'm not blind. I am, however, a moron.