The Perils of Antibacterial Soap

Recently I got new glasses and contacts. Now this is the first time I’ve ever worn contacts, and when the allergens are NOT driving me insane and mucking them up, I love my contacts.

Anyone who has worn contact lenses knows you should wash your hands well before putting them in or taking them out. If you don’t, you can get all sorts of microscopic nasties in your eyes. Anyway, the other day I was getting ready to do some housework, and since my glasses irk the pee out of me by sliding around on my nose when I’m busy, I washed my hands with the antibacterial soap I keep in the bathroom, dried them, and inserted the first contact lens.

Hmm, that stung a li’l bit.

Second contact was inside out, so I had to pause a moment and flip it around. I popped it in my eye and…

Oh, hell, that stings….

No, no! That burns!

Dang that burns A LOT!

Blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink…

I quit blinking. That should do it.

Hell, no! It still burns! So I start blinking again, tears are pouring, and I'm worrying the contact will flush out of my eye and land on the sink or on the floor.

Blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, blink…

By that time, the burning stopped. Well, sort of.

However, my nose was running so darn bad I thought I was going to have to put on my Sketchers Shape-Ups and chase the darn thing down.

Lunch time, so I headed to the kitchen with my nose still running. Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff…

Scrounging for something to eat, I found shells and cheese, but they needed some milk and cheese added. I got out a jar of soft cheese, scooped some out, put it in the noodles, but got some on my fingers.

Well, I did what any normal person would do. I stuck my finger in my mouth to lick off the cheese.

B.L.E.C.H!!!

YUCK!

OMG, that tasted horrible!

No wonder my eyes stung like crazy when I put my contact lenses in. My finger tasted like antibacterial soap. I hadn’t gotten all the soap washed off my hands.

Lesson well learned.

And lemme tell ya, the taste of antibacterial soap is a bitch to get out of your mouth. I even rinsed my mouth with burnt coffee—no, let’s not go there, long story—and that didn’t even help.

So then I had the taste of soap AND burnt coffee in my mouth.

Anyone got some cinnamon candy disks or gum?

Don't Need to Say Much Today

I'm usually kind of long-winded. I know that. But today this blog really needs no big introduction or major explanation. It sort of does that all by itself.

I told you about teaching Jess to drive the stick in yesterday's post. Well, in doing that I told you about the "mouth" she's got on her, too, and all about her ROAD RAGE issues.

So yesterday afternoon, I was riding shotgun--yeah, I should know better--and we were rolling through town on our way to the veterinarian's office (my blog topic for tomorrow, btw), and someone cuts in front of Jess in traffic. Just whips in front of her (it's a big four-lane road). Jess somehow sees this as skipping line in front of her. I finally figured that out--a leftover from elementary and middle school, I'm sure. She can't seem to get it in her head that even though she's speeding, there will always be someone else who wants to go even faster.

Well, when this rude individual (according to her) skipped in line in front of her (a perfectly safe maneuver on that driver's part, I might add), Jess went ballistic. "YOU C***SUCKER!" Okay. Now let's talk about that word I just bleeped out. I don't use that word. Never have. But Jess uses it rather liberally in reference to individuals who have the nerve to offend her while driving down the road. I don't know where she picked up this particular affinity for that word and haven't asked. But I do look at her c***sided when she says it.

Anyway, this blog is getting a bit long, isn't it? And I said it wouldn't...so hurrying up now...She screamed that out at the driver, who, of course, could not hear her. And then she reached into the side pocket of her door panel and grabbed her handy dandy blackberry, started waving it in the air, and to the top of her lungs shouted:

"I'M GONNA REPORT THAT C***SUCKER FOR DRIVING DRUNK. WHAT'S THE NUMBER FOR 911?"

Yes, it would seem I've raised the village idiot. And yes, we pulled over again so I could drive.