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03 September 2007 : so avoid-y.
scene:
cool, sunny, sunday morning. i wake up tired, sore, and surrounded by boys. this is as entertaining as it sounds, though not remotely so dirty. my muscles (and the bruises which refuse to heal) are complaining - because i slept on the world's least comfortable floor.
after twenty minutes or so of listening to various morning musics (cat playing, boys chattering, hangover puking, dogs barking) i wake up enough to rub my eyes vigorously and dig through my bag to put in my contacts.
the boy who slept at my feet says, "hey, give me some of that stuff."
groggy, i am, and trying to put contact lenses into dry eyes that don't want to open at all, let alone wide enough to allow the adherence of foreign objects. "what stuff?"
"you know what stuff."
i dig my saline solution out of the bag and throw it at him. it hits his arm. he picks it up and says, "no rub solution?"
i thought his eyes were dry from all the drinking and staying up late. he throws it back at me, and suddenly everyone in the room is engaged in a conversation about my no rub solution. my sterile, no rub solution.
as i find and surrender the bottle of tylenol that he originally desired, i find myself less and less entertained by the hilarity around me.
sterile, no rub solution? sounds like a metaphor for my life.
posted by lindsay at 13:25 ::
scene:
cool, sunny, sunday morning. i wake up tired, sore, and surrounded by boys. this is as entertaining as it sounds, though not remotely so dirty. my muscles (and the bruises which refuse to heal) are complaining - because i slept on the world's least comfortable floor.
after twenty minutes or so of listening to various morning musics (cat playing, boys chattering, hangover puking, dogs barking) i wake up enough to rub my eyes vigorously and dig through my bag to put in my contacts.
the boy who slept at my feet says, "hey, give me some of that stuff."
groggy, i am, and trying to put contact lenses into dry eyes that don't want to open at all, let alone wide enough to allow the adherence of foreign objects. "what stuff?"
"you know what stuff."
i dig my saline solution out of the bag and throw it at him. it hits his arm. he picks it up and says, "no rub solution?"
i thought his eyes were dry from all the drinking and staying up late. he throws it back at me, and suddenly everyone in the room is engaged in a conversation about my no rub solution. my sterile, no rub solution.
as i find and surrender the bottle of tylenol that he originally desired, i find myself less and less entertained by the hilarity around me.
sterile, no rub solution? sounds like a metaphor for my life.
Labels: life in the bluegrass
posted by lindsay at 13:25 ::