No one: How was your morning?
Me: Woke up this morning ready to “Will Smith” my stepson’s sperm donor for a “dream offense” that is likely a culmination of the multitude of offenses he committed while my son was growing up. Leaped out of bed in fight mode scaring the crap out of the dog below me.
A short while later I cleaned up a dog accident that I narrowly avoided stepping in. Counts as a positive and a negative?
Then I was nearly killed because somehow, despite our MANY advancements in technology, drivers and especially this asshat in a Mercedes cannot figure out how to Bluetooth their damn phones. Instead, they drive like a drunken idiot randomly entering other lanes and changing speed in a 70 zone from 40 to 75 or more. Hang up and drive already, you and your conversation are not that important or you’d have a driver.
Managing to return safely to my humble abode I set to work on a project that is due. Ah, peace and SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRAPE… SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRAPE. Squirrel, chewing on the gutter just above the window of the room I’m working in. Scratch scratch bite scrape, repeat. Terrific. This is not the first time nor the fourth time this has happened. I failed to buy the SuperSoaker that I planned to use to curtail this behavior. What to do?
Ah… make the area less palatable! I grab my trusty Sabre Maximum Strength Oleoresin Capsicum Pepper Gel that is nearing the end of its recommended life. I’ll scare off the squirrel and spray some on the gutter to make it less appealing for the “chewing”. Maybe. Do squirrels dislike OC Pepper? About to find out.
March outside and within five feet of the offending squirrel. He just looks at me. Mr. Squirrel is sizing me up, knowing that I can’t get to him before he can run away. I raise the pepper spray towards him. A circumspect squirrel of some worldly experience, he runs away across the roof. A smart move on his part. Not a problem, my target is not the squirrel, but the object of his obsession. I should have followed his lead and simply retreated back inside.
I’m tall enough to get an angle on the gutter if I raise my arm high over my head. I press the button on the spray and instead of a high-pressure stream of gel (the normal emittance when you do that), I get a fine mist… just as a gust of Texas wind picks up. It was a one to two-second burst, hopefully not a lot of OC in that mist. No immediate effects were felt, so I wait for the wind to die down and fire another test burst… a stream emits as originally expected. I proceed to spray a stream of gel on that part of the gutter some refer to as the “hors d’oeuvre”. Surely that will dissuade Mr. Squirrel. Mission accomplished?
I get back in the house, secure the pepper spray in its spot, wash my hands just for good measure and resume my position at the computer. All is well, for a moment… then I adjust my glasses. The “fine mist” must have deposited some of the pepper spray on my glasses because the edge of my eye starts to burn a bit. I likely touched the substance on my glasses and transferred a bit to the edge of my eye.
Not being a complete idiot (current evidence to the contrary) I realized that I must have received a dose of the pepper spray when it misted. I go to remove my glasses and I realize that my hand-washing was not thorough enough because now the mucus membrane of my nose and my lips are starting to burn a bit. Remove glasses, flush eye with cold water for 15 minutes. You’ve been here before… OC, CS, CN… all the fun C irritants. Air and water, that’s the prescription. Where is a canteen of smelly water when you need it?
Oh, the cold water feels good for a brief moment. Maybe we can wash this off without causing further injury. The burning is increasing and spreading. This is NOT the desired effect… “DO NOT RUB YOUR EYES!” echoes in my brain from military training years ago. I absolutely will not rub my eyes, I will flush them with SWEET BABY JESUS IN THE MANGER… my eyeball is on fire now! Are there needles coming out of the faucet? Am I accidentally scraping my eyeball on the metal threads in my effort to get a better flow of water… no, no.. that’s not it. I am just eating hot sauce with my retina.
This slow crescendo of burn is a sensation I relish when I’m eating nachos, but I don’t normally eat nachos with my eyeballs and I certainly don’t get jalapeno or habanero juice in my eyes. Flushing with water is no longer a problem, the internal sprinkler system of my body turned itself on and now I’m crying, from one eye, that is on fire. I’m a full-spectrum audio/visual performance art piece (NSFW). I don’t know my lines, but I’m saying them with fervor and passion as my tortured soul attempts to extract itself through the first available orifice on my head.
I continue flushing my eye with water but that is difficult because I am tall, the sink is low, and there is no cup to be found to assist with this, or if there is I cannot see it because I’m blinded by the fires of Hades in one eye, and according to my optometrist, I’m just blind in the other. My useless and likely contaminated glasses sit on the counter taunting me. I have an idea… the kitchen sink has a much taller faucet AND a sprayer that will facilitate the flushing of my inferno eye. I’ll go there. *cue Mission Impossible music*
All of the commotions startled my two dogs. They watched with some level of concern as I administered aid to myself. They realized that things were not going well because of the obscene barking and wailing emanating from what used to be their kind and loving master. “Something must be done about this! Oh, I bet he needs our assistance!”
As I make my way out of the bathroom and through the bedroom they decide to meet me halfway to provide whatever canine assistance they can. They choose to circle in the other direction and meet me via the hallway. The bedroom door is partly closed. I am approaching the door auditioning for the lead role of “Blind and Blinder” when one of my trusty mutts paws the door open right into my face. Not the middle of the door or the comfy flat part of the door that one might use in a WWE match to smack their opponent. No, it was the edge of the door, smacking me in the forehead and nose as one hand holds a wet washcloth to the injured eye and the other was reaching for the doorknob. That will leave a mark I’m guessing… but I probably won’t be able to see it. At least my glasses weren’t damaged. They are laying on the counter next to the bathroom sink.
I manage to stumble into the kitchen, turn on the faucet on cold and resume flushing the mote of Sauron that is swimming nearer and nearer to my optical cortex. After a short while, the burning begins to subside, the involuntary tears begin to slow, and the worst of the experience is over. This will continue to sting, but the irritation is subsiding and I’m able to see reasonably well. Enough that I can decontaminate my glasses, wash my hands again, and resume my work.
Life can return to normal. Surely I have washed my hands and decontaminated enough to avoid any other ill effects. What is that sensation? Oh… that’s not good. I have to pee…
The Unvarnished Veteran 