Eyesore

You'll have to forgive the following post of any outrageous spelling errors.

I was trimming Luke's toenails this evening and a tiny piece flew directly into my cornea like...keratin shrapnel. Being the patriot that I am, I managed to finish his last toe before slapping my hand over my eye and crying out in agony. I stumbled blindly into the bathroom and tried to spot the offending shard in the mirror. Unfortunately, I haven't yet mastered the art of rolling one eye into the back of my head while using the other one to spot a foreign object...so I had to call my unsympathetic husband for help.

"What happened?"

"I was trimming Luke's toenails and got a piece of it in my eye!"

"How?"

I rolled my other eye in exasperation but I don't think he noticed.

"I got bored and put it there. Just...get me a flashlight, will you?!"

He returned a moment later with a giant Mag-Lite. You know...the kind that doubles as a baseball bat? The kind that would freeze a deer at two hundred yards? The kind that attracts more insects than our front porch light when we've accidentally left it on in the evening and have to wade our way to the front door like Kate Capshaw in The Temple of Doom, nearly trampling the kids (or locking them out) in our desperate attempt to keep any of the bugs from getting in the house?

Yeah, that one.

I'm still seeing spots.

Of course, Chris felt the need to hold the thing close enough for my eyelashes to get singed by the lamp. And when he couldn't find the toenail in the red, watery eye, he started looking in the normal one. I finally swatted him away and settled on the age-old method of closing my eye and rubbing the dickens out of it until something gives.

Finally, it did. So now I'm partially blind, but free of irritating debris.

Hooray.

**insert gimpy eye-roll**

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