"Got Milk?" or, "Bunnies' Revenge!"
A beautiful, beautiful, did I mention beautiful? April day here. And after taking in Luke's excellent ice hockey game, the day was mine to work in the yard.
While clearing the flowerbeds I noticed that whee, I have lots of Lilly of the Valley coming up this year! And, whoa, bunnies have been nibbling on the new little shoots. So I went inside, got me some Tabasco sauce, and wiped down those defenseless little lilly shoots. I then continued yardwork for another hour or so when, chatting with a neighbor, I started to feel a little stinging above one eye. Ah, stray Tabasco, must've wiped there. I excuse myself and head inside to deal with the minor irritation.
Seeing me wetting a paper towel, Bookworm surmises, "Hot sauce?"
"Yup."
"It's the bunnies' revenge," she says.
"I suppose so," I answer, swiping at the afflicted eyelid.
And then my eye really begins to sting. A lot. In an ouchy way. Which I make verbally known. Meanwhile Bookworm has continued her reflections on all things hot sauce, calling up much miscellaneous info from her big brain.
..."And I think it was in sixth grade that we learned about pepper spray and did you know the worst thing you can do is try to wash it with water?"
"Whuh?" With one eye now firmly closed, squinted, and otherwise adversely affected by painful pepper pain, I straighten up from the sink and shoot her the Cyclops Mom look.
"Yeah," she continues, glad for an audience. "Apparently water makes it worse. It, like, makes the pepper react more, or spreads it or something. So you're supposed to use milk to counteract it..."
"And you're telling me this now?!" I try for glare but the right eye is squinched up so tight, the left one is lucky it's open.
"Oh!" Realization hits. This isn't a hypothesis, this is real life!
So we grab a milk jug, pour some on a (different) paper towel, apply... and the pain stops. As in, immediately. Just like that.
So kids, the next time you're careless in your plotting against maurading rabbits, or simply wipe the hot sauce sweat off your brow with hot-sauced fingers and some drips down, remember the milk. And be glad Bookworm remembers everything.
While clearing the flowerbeds I noticed that whee, I have lots of Lilly of the Valley coming up this year! And, whoa, bunnies have been nibbling on the new little shoots. So I went inside, got me some Tabasco sauce, and wiped down those defenseless little lilly shoots. I then continued yardwork for another hour or so when, chatting with a neighbor, I started to feel a little stinging above one eye. Ah, stray Tabasco, must've wiped there. I excuse myself and head inside to deal with the minor irritation.
Seeing me wetting a paper towel, Bookworm surmises, "Hot sauce?"
"Yup."
"It's the bunnies' revenge," she says.
"I suppose so," I answer, swiping at the afflicted eyelid.
And then my eye really begins to sting. A lot. In an ouchy way. Which I make verbally known. Meanwhile Bookworm has continued her reflections on all things hot sauce, calling up much miscellaneous info from her big brain.
..."And I think it was in sixth grade that we learned about pepper spray and did you know the worst thing you can do is try to wash it with water?"
"Whuh?" With one eye now firmly closed, squinted, and otherwise adversely affected by painful pepper pain, I straighten up from the sink and shoot her the Cyclops Mom look.
"Yeah," she continues, glad for an audience. "Apparently water makes it worse. It, like, makes the pepper react more, or spreads it or something. So you're supposed to use milk to counteract it..."
"And you're telling me this now?!" I try for glare but the right eye is squinched up so tight, the left one is lucky it's open.
"Oh!" Realization hits. This isn't a hypothesis, this is real life!
So we grab a milk jug, pour some on a (different) paper towel, apply... and the pain stops. As in, immediately. Just like that.
So kids, the next time you're careless in your plotting against maurading rabbits, or simply wipe the hot sauce sweat off your brow with hot-sauced fingers and some drips down, remember the milk. And be glad Bookworm remembers everything.