I was laying in bed last night, and I thought about this story that I absolutely have to tell you-
Okay, so there's this girl...Let's call her, Jill.
So Jill, a woman of great beauty and intelligence, has this routine. She gets up every morning, and (sleep) walks straight to the coffee pot- where of course, she makes coffee. Then, she falls back asleep, leaning against the counter, until the coffee-maker beeps and wakes her back up.
So one morning she does this, as she routinely does, with her eyes half closed. Except this morning, she sleepily rubs her eyes before her magical wake-up beverage is done.
And since Jill is disgusting and lazy and never - ever takes her make up off before bed, she gets mascara in her eye- which burned like the dickens. (She told me so.)
So, Jill scurries off to the bathroom, leaving her post in front of the coffee-maker. And with eyes still half closed, she fumbles around until she finds the eye make-up remover on the bathroom shelf.
She then squirts a generous- and I really can't emphasize this word enough- GE-NER-OUS- amount of cream onto her hand and proceeds to rub it onto her right eye.
Well, then...around, oh, 13 seconds later, Jill begins to experience a very new kind of retribution- one which nothing in her 25 years on this earth had ever compared- a fiery, scorching, pain. A cornea-melting, iris-searing kind of pain. (I know this, because she described it to me in great detail...)
Then the panic sets in, and fear- fear of losing her very beloved, very useful right eye.
So, she frantically races to her children's bathroom, where the eyedrops are kept in the bathroom cabinet. She does this quietly- like a church mouse- because although she is in mortal agony, she is still clear-headed enough to cling to and protect the sweet and precious 37 minutes of morning quiet time that she has left.
Furiously, she empties the bottle of eyedrops into her eye and melts onto the bathroom counter. Oh, sweet relief.
Silently, she thanks God. And Ben Stein -for whatever part he played in the eye-drop industry.
Then she remains like this - crumpled - like a spider that's been hit with a shoe, on the bathroom counter. She does this until that persistent question pops into her poor, decaffeinated, morning-brain, and begs to be answered.
What the hell did I just put in my eye?
(Remember this is Jill...I, myself, would never use such language.)
Curiosity wins her over, and she skulks off like a wounded cat to the other bathroom- to investigate the label of this fiery, evil substance.
Picking up the bottle that looks identical to her eye make up remover- I mean, I-DEN-TI-CAL- (can I reiterate this enough?), she turns it around and reads,
To Quote the infamous Charlie Brown... Good. Grief.
Jill, put foot soak in her eye.
In her eye.
Can you believe that?
Who does that??
Jill is lucky to still have two eyes.
Jill should try and be more careful.
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