Like a cat.

So, it's Friday. Which in my teeny-tiny world means it's time to clean the house. I don't do a fantastic job, but since neither the Gipester or I has ever actually had typhoid, I'm going to declare my housekeeping skills adequate.

I actually had a meeting this afternoon, so I wasn't actually planning on cleaning at all, but once I was dressed and ready for my meeting, I realized that I still had an hour or so before I even had to leave. So. I ran the dishwasher. Still had time. Wiped down counters in the kitchen. That took about 25 seconds, so I moved on to the bathroom. Wiped down counters and tub. I think, "The mirror needs Windexing." Is that a word? Hmmm? Doesn't matter. Still had time. "Fine," I think, "I'll clean the toilet." So, scrub, scrub. Clean. "Wow. The mirror is still really streaky... That's gonna drive me crazy."
So, I go get the Windex again. I had my reading glasses perched on the top of my head (headed to a meeting, remember?), a bottle of Windex in one hand and a paper towel in the other.

Now, in order to get to the top of the mirror over the sink, I have to get way up on my toes, which means my head tips back a little, just enough for my reading glasses to start slipping. We have ceramic tile in the bathroom, I really didn't want my glasses to fall off and break, so my knee-jerk reaction was to reach up to catch them. Guess which hand I used? Not the one with the soft paper towel. Nope. The one with the bottle of nasty chemical juice of death.

In my attempt to keep my glasses from breaking, I hit myself in the temple with the (surprisingly pointy) nozzle of the bottle. Then, because my brain was having a hard time processing what had happened, I turned my head sharply to the left to see what had hit me in the head and I sprayed myself in the eyes with Windex. And then my glasses fell off my head anyway.

I am effing AMAZING!!!

Happy Friday, chickens.