Always Read the Label

This morning I grabbed a new bottle of saline solution and popped a disposable contact into my eye.

Immediately, THE BURNING! THE PAIN! I'M BLIND!   

(I just finished reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle.)

Howling, I immediately began rinsing my eyeball with water, trying to float my contact out of my face, while Beloved, confused, grabbed the bottle.

"This isn't saline solution," he said. "This is activator."

OH JESUS! IT BUUUURRRRRNNNNNNSSSSSS!

Moaning, I found myself hopping up and down as I tried to convince my eye to open so I could attempt to scrape plastic off its burning surface. This did not go well. Beloved tried to get me to hold my eye open, but I was terrified he would poke his finger in my eye and then I WOULD HAVE TO KILL HIM.

Five minutes, about a gallon of water and a mini bottle full of real saline solution later, the burning began to subside, and I *think* my contact must have floated out in all the ruckus, because I don't see it or feel it anywhere, but of course this feeds into my ongoing paranoia that I have contacts stuck in my eyes at all times and just don't know it until the infection does truly blind me.

So if you see me on the street today, I'll be the one with glasses, no make-up and a giant, bloodshot left eye.

Hi, Monday. You bitch.