Today in the cafe I walked to the bathroom, used the toilet, and then went to the sink to wash my hands. The soap had dried in this curious way around the edges of the dispenser so that when I pumped it, a double stream of soap shot upward into not one but both of my eyes. (I am still shaking my head that I got nailed in both eyes.) It was Dr. Bronner’s soap – I recognized the peppermint scent – and my eyes immediately clamped shut with the pain. I made an “Oof” noise, and then I was mortified because I knew how many people were sitting right outside the door, and what if they could hear me oofing? But there was no way not to oof.
My eyes hurt too much to open, so I couldn’t wash the soap out. I had no choice but to ride out the pain. I just stood there, palms flat against my eyes, uselessly, waiting for the sting to recede. Finally, after about five minutes, I could open them. I splashed some water in them. It didn’t help.
When I had left the house an hour before, my makeup was perfect. I recently bought fancy mascara (worth every penny, I am sorry to inform you), so I’ve been spending a lot of time on my eyes in the morning. You know: windows to the soul, and all that jazz. Now gigantic half moons had formed below them, as if the soap had dripped down from my eyes and created a pool in my skin. I hadn’t shed a tear, but still it appeared something terrible had occurred. I went in the bathroom looking one way, and I walked out looking another. The whole situation was even more suspect because I had been in there a really long time. I was wearing a bright pink sweater Molly had loaned me, and it didn’t even matter because my eyes were trashed. It seemed so unfair.
The rest of the day my eyes were swollen. They still sting. Soap in my system.
I just walked down the hall to my neighbor Erica’s apartment, and I told her this story, and she gave me bourbon, and now I feel better.
