Not a Dry Eye In The House. Oh, Except Mine

It is true that I have been completely slacking when it comes to the blog. I should now just assume it is going to be a quarterly. Like a fine literary journal but without the compelling fiction.

It is not as though interesting things haven't happened -- we went to Vancouver, Hawaii, San Francisco. I had an art opening, Sofia started walking. Oh quite a few happenings. Quite a few. But somehow, they just didn't seem like blog fodder. Or, I was just over the blogging.

So what inspires me today? My own idiocy.

Yes, this morning I was getting showered and dressed in a hurry with the little one (now 14 months) noodling in and around my legs, wanting to play. Somehow in my haste I went from applying antiperspirant to touching my eye and got a great gooey glob of the Maxim right in the old left socket. Stumbling around, a moved as quickly as I could from the bathroom to the kitchen (no clothes, front door open) to rinse out the eye, which was now clamped shut from the stinging pain. And drying. Just like Mitchum should. On one's armpits. While I rinse out the offending goo I beg my husband to call the insurance nurse's line or look online to see if blindness is imminent all the while the baby, not understanding what the hell is going on, is tapping on my still wet and naked leg, wanting me read the children's classic "Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See?" To which I could honestly answer, "Not a whole f*%$%$ing lot."

Wash, rinse, repeat and then go to the Emergency. While I was there, I rinsed again because the only person who seemed to have compassion and the will to help was the check in security guy who, after around an hour, had me read a sign to check my vision and advised me I could probably go home. Wanting to avoid some horrendous emergency bill and seeing no doctor care in sight (oh yes, pun intended), I called Jeffrey and advised him that I was cured or, since it was a security guard, cleared to go..and I would be walking the three blocks home.

So I would officially like to change the old Haste Makes Waste adage and update it with Haste Makes Pain. And I have also learned that pain + time = comedy or, at the very least, something worthwhile to blog.