An Eye for an I

You know, I made the mistake last week, while at my parents’ house, of saying “you guys need to do something insane… I need blog material.”

They did nothing insane.

Murphy provided.

One of the things I absolutely love about my relationship is the cuddling. I get to cuddle! I don’t get told to stay on my own side of the bed. I don’t get told “don’t touch me, I’m trying to sleep”. None of that. I get snuggles and sweetness and a heartbeat. It’s wonderful. And we were cuddling friday morning. I was nuzzled right up on his shoulder, happily sleeping to the beat of his heart, dreaming of bloody baseball mitts and parrots and other strange but wonderful things that invade my slumber…

Cue the alarm clock.

It was early. Damn early. And I had just fallen back asleep an hour beforehand, after waking up for no good reason. I wasn’t ready to be awake again yet. But that damn buzzing. I popped open my eyes, wide, like a manga character that has been goosed. Bob jumped at the sound of the alarm, flinching in a left to right jerking motion. Normally not a problem, but we were snuggling. We were too close.

And the whiskers on his chin scraped right across my wide open eyeball.

NOW I was awake. With a gasp and a yelp, answered by a mumble and a snore, I was out of bed holding my eye. He was sleeping soundly. He had no idea that he had just blinded me for life! I kept the angry eye closed and got dressed. I grabbed coffee, smokes and a warm washcloth. I sat on the porch and willed my eye to open. It refused. It was hurt. It wanted nothing to do with functioning. After about an hour, I finally convinced it and went in to finish getting ready… deciding it might be a good day to skip the eye makeup.

The mirror showed a sad sight. I looked like I’d been hit! It was red and puffy, tearing non-stop, and trying very hard to swell shut. I put on the rest of my makeup, did my hair, looked the businessy part the best I could and headed out…to a big business breakfast with the Chamber of Commerce!

That’s right. Cuz Murphy loves me.

I got to meet all kinds of businessmen and women I didn’t know. I shook hands with the gentlemen doing the presentation. I enjoyed a lovely breakfast with a table full of important strangers.

And cried the entire time.


Now, if you’ve ever hurt an eye, or plunked an eyebrow hair for that matter, you know that your eyes are, for some higher being’s entertainment only, connected to your nose somehow. So my left eye is swollen and tearing non-stop and my left nostril is running like an 8 year boy from a group of girls.

I can’t tell you how many times I apologized. I can’t tell you how often I heard, “oh my god, are you ok?” only to answer, “oh yeah, no, I’m not crying, I scratched my eye this morning—it’s all good.” I can’t even begin to imagine how that looked. To the businessmen and women. To the chamber. To the poor speaker who must have thought he sucked so bad he made some girl in the back cry.

It’s better now. I no longer look like Forrest Whittaker on a bender. It no longer burns, but has this odd lump feeling when I blink (scar tissue? ewww). It was awful. But it was funny. And damn if I didn’t ask the universe to give me something to blog about…

Be careful what you wish for people. Because, it’s all fun and games until someone loses— Oh, I can’t even finish that sentence!

0 Responses to An Eye for an I

  • Bob Ford says:

    The Universes does provide. And I’m sure, even though you were doing a Forrest Whittaker routine, you still made an indelible impression. =)

  • wolfnoma says:

    If it makes you feel better I once was dared to PLUCK my nose hairs with a tweezers at a party… Not quite the same but teary-eyed-pain wormed it’s way into my brain through a half a bottle of Mezcaline.

  • Jim says:

    Well, that sounds oddly similiar to the time that Cris (Eddie) threw an arrow and connected with my cornea. Remember my bloody eye in high school?
    I feel your pain kit. I feel your pain.

  • Kelli says:

    Oh yeah, I remember… and in retrospect, i feel YOUR pain!

  • Tim Baker says:

    Doesn’t Bob only HAVE 7 whiskers on his whole face? What are the odds? And one of them scratched your eye… that’s really bad luck.

  • Kelli says:

    tim! OH. MY. GOD! i said that exact thing to the eye doc “it’s not like he’s got a full beard—he’s only got SEVEN whiskers for god’s sake!” to which the doc informed me that only 4 of his 7 had actually scratched my eye =))

  • Tim Baker says:

    Ha! I guess those 7 whiskers have Seth Brundle-like resilience.

  • Kelli says:

    Not to mention “retard strength” =)

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