Delivering Girl Scout cookies was our task this afternoon. I made sure my hair was brushed and that my makeup was still semi-in-tact. I then made Cody brush her hair for the fiftieth time today and put some socks on under her shoes. Why do I have to tell her to do that EVERYDAY? You would think that after the third or fourth time she would realize that I don't want her wearing her shoes without socks. But I think today makes the 247th
day this winter (yes it's been a long winter) that I have had to remind her to do this.
The point is, I wanted us to look somewhat put together while we delivered people's edible treats and ran off with their money.
Our first delivery went very well. Then a couple of things began to unravel. You know that commercial from a few years back? The one where the people who are wearing contacts are making incredibly silly faces? And the tag line reads something like, "Aren't you wearing contacts so that you will look better
I could have been the poster child for that ad today.
I was driving down a pretty busy street when something flew into my eye. I assume it was a shard of glass. Or maybe a chainsaw. Whatever it was, it immediately found the edge of my contact and snuggled up underneath it.
This caused my eyes to tear excessively
. Apparently my tear duct thought my eyeball was on fire. There was so much tearing, in fact, that I could not get a "grip" on my lens. Not that I had much time. My eyelid had gone into shock and would only open in an extremely involuntary manner. In the meantime, I'm trying to keep my behemoth
of a vehicle between the stripes while going 45 mph.
I finally coaxed my lid open long enough to snatch my lens out, but now I'm driving with one very clear eye, and one very
unclear eye. Oh, and I was balancing a contact precariously on my finger. Why didn't I pull over? Because. Because that would have involved changing lanes in the direction of my very unclear eye.
But, what's this I see? A red light? OH THANK THE LORD! A RED LIGHT! Don't think I've ever said that before. I came to a stop and before I can even get the mirror down...yep. The light turns green. Ok
. Just shove that lens back in. Quick.
Thankfully, whatever was in my eye now felt more like a pair of scissors as opposed to a chainsaw and I was able to get where I was going safely.
Upon arrival, I whipped the vanity mirror down to inspect the damage. Shouldn't be bad, I told myself. I buy waterproof mascara. HA...HA...HA...
I guess waterproof means that if your eyes tear for more than a few moments, the mascara will run, BUT when you lick your finger and try to rub it off? Nope, that stuff is gonna stay put. Should be called spit-but-not-waterproof. So for all of you who wondered who had punched me in the eye today when we delivered your cookies, this story should satisfy your curiosity. Happy?