I don’t like things put in my eye. Fingers? Nope, don’t like it. Elbows — not particularly fond. Sharp sticks? Naw. Glass shards. Not a chance.
How about a nice, wet, glump of drywall mud?
It was a perfect shot. It fell right onto my eyeball without being impeded by eyelids, eyelashes, sockets…nothing. It gooped me right in the freaking eye. Of course, my eye immediately quashes shut, grinding the mud up around the eyeball into the recesses of my brain.
Did I mention that this was fast-drying drywall compound? Yeah, so I then couldn’t open my eye to flush it out. I think about a pound gooped me.
Of course, the only source of water in the house is down in the basement. Which wouldn’t be bad except the stairs were covered in scaffolding. You know, a strange thing happens when you can only see with one eye — you lose all depth perception. Huh. How about that.
I didn’t break my neck (I know, some of you are assuming I didn’t because I’m writing this…but for all you know, I could’ve mastered one of those speech-typers) and I made it to the bathroom.
Specials thanks to Kari for chasing me around the room splashing water in my face. Enjoyed that.
That is horrible, isn’t it? Not that I’ve gooped drywall mud in my eye — but I’ve seen my husband do it — and after I quit killing myself laughing, I chased him around throwing water at him, too. I guess I should have aimed for his face — that might have actually been some help. Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind for the next time. Because I KNOW there weill be a next time. (That might explain why he doesn’t ask me to help him anymore, though….)
The best part was Kari didn’t know anything about the drywall mud she was just playing with water.