Yesterday I managed to scratch my cornea by getting a chunk of mascara stuck to the inside of my eyelid. That's right. I injured myself by putting on makeup. Think about that for a while. It's truly pitiful, isn't it? It was my good eye, so it was a little scary, wondering if I'd leave the doctor's office with an eye patch, but they don't do that any more. (If I haven't mentioned it here before, I have a good eye. My other eye is my evil eye. Ha. Just kidding. Or maybe not.) Unfortunately, they also don't do anesthetic drops any more, because people would keep using them to mask increasing pain and end up with gigantic eye ulcers and sit there saying "but it doesn't hurt!" So I've spent 1.5 days (so far) feeling like I got soap in my eye just because some people are stupid.
Anyway. J spent the weekend helping our nephew put a new roof on his house, and he was still quite worn out yesterday evening. We sat there drooping in the living room, marinating in our misery, and I said "I think the level of self pity in this house is at a 7." Last night, Boo came into our room at 3:00 (so I guess it was actually this morning, wasn't it?) and said she couldn't sleep. When I left for work, she complained that she was tired and had a headache. So tonight, I think our household self pity level will go up a couple of notches.
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