Slow Like Honey...
Today I came home, butt-tired. (So tired in fact, that I'm somewhere between completely sure and completely not, that I made up the phrase 'butt-tired.') I had every intention of a quick rant and then bedtime, but instead decided to get funky with the kitchen and the spices and the whatnot.
I made a soup from scratch. And I labored over the spices, trying to figure the perfect proportions of rice, mushrooms, onions, vinegar, soy sauce, basil, etc etc etc. That is, till I hit the mysteriously frozen section of chili peppers.
At this point my brain farted and I decided, well, hey...I love my spices, and put like a million of them in there. All chopped up. Mix, boil and serve. Simple, right?
So I'm eating my soup and reading my Cosmopolitan magazine, and generally just feeling pretty good about life, the universe, and all that nifty stuff.
That is, until my eye started itching. Never being one for much in the way of restraint, of course I reached up and rubbed it. Not even my glasses were in the way today, as I had run out the door earlier without them and had to put my contacts on in the car.
Apparently I hadn't washed my hands since slicing up the million peppers, and my eye, contacts and all, immediately felt like it was going to just pop right out of my head with flames around it and whatnot. Grunting something , I burst past my mom and stuck my head in the sink for the next five minutes. At some point I was seriously thinking to myself...If I don't get my contacts out, I'll go blind...
So I started by removing the contact from the afflicted eye. Easy, shmeazy. Turning then to the as-of-yet uninflected eye, I tried to remove the contact....
...only to discover that in all my pain, I still hadn't managed to get the chili pepper juice off my fingers.
The tortured noises that came from the bathroom could have come from a 60 yr old caveman. I swear.
Luckily, after stumbling back to my room (and my mom making sure I wouldn't die), I lay down on my bed with a wet rag over my eyes. Unable to open my eyes, I had myself a good think.
Moral of the story?
IF YOU DON'T WASH YOUR HANDS YOU WILL BE STRICKEN WITH SYPHILIS. (Or chili pepper juice. Whichever.)