Saturday, March 10, 2007

My Eye! My Beautiful Eye!

"My eye! My beautiful eye!"

I think that's a quote from Futurama, when Leela, the one-eyed (she's a cyclops) human-mutant ship's captain gets a bunch of hot spices shot directly into her single eye by Elzar, the futuristic version of... crap, I can't remember the name of the chef in our present time who goes "Bam!" all the time, LOL!!! Oh, yeah. Emerald. I think that's the guy. Probably not spelling his name right.

Anyway, I'm in bed, sleeping away on a Saturday morning, and one of our dogs gets up and insists I wake up and let both of them out.

"No, Boss. Go away. Go lie down."

Boss finally gives up, but not without giving a drool-flinging shake.

And yes, you guessed it. A big dollop of dog slobber lands right in my left eye.

I'm horrified. I probably wouldn't be if it weren't for the episode of House where that farmer's dog bites the farmer on the leg, and gives him a bad case of flesh-eating virus.

I get up, and proceed to wash the outside of my left eye-lid with sea-breeze (most quickly-found alcohol-containing product in the bathroom), and then flush my left eye with eye drops. Then I use the bathroom. Dwelling on it as I finish going to the bathroom, I end up rinsing my left eye out with water... after I've first washed my hands of course.

Anyway, just call me one-eye.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Slow blog day

So, I went home sick for the second time in 2 weeks.

Last time, I had had chili, a hard-boiled egg that hadn't been refrigerated the day before, but had been in the frig the prior night -- I had forgotten to eat it the prior day -- and all kinds of different foods.

And one blended fruit drink in a bottle, sold from a well known store.

I almost threw up, and ended up in the bathroom with the runs. After the fourth trip to the bathroom, I went home sick for the day.

I blamed the hard boiled egg. It seemed the likely choice. The chili didn't make my husband sick. But it did make the "runs" much less pleasant.

Today, I had shepherds pie leftover from the prior night. And this pie hadn't bothered me or my husband the prior night. And a cup of instant coffee.

And I had another bottle of the blended fruit drink.

I almost puked at work. I honestly TRIED to... but it was a weird battle. On the one hand, I knew if I went with the desire to vomit, I'd probably feel alot better and not have the runs so bad. [The prior time, I'd fought tooth and nail not to puke. So the vile bug had to go through my entire intestinal tract before I was rid of it.] But on the other hand, I really didn't want to have to puke if I could help it. No-one ever does, and part of your body will fight you about it until the other part finally says "yes, you are puking, NOW!"

I suppose I could have done the finger-down-the-throat trick, but I missed that lesson in the private school that served as my high-school. Let's just say that bulemia wasn't one of my problems growing up.

Anyway, I knew puking was inevitable, and I knew I was screwed. And... I knew the rest of my day was screwed, as I'd probably be running to the restroom for the *other* reason after I'd finished puking.

I told my office-mate I was going home to puke. I pulled the container the fruit drink had come in, out of the trash, and tossed it into a plastic bag. And I drove home.

And I nearly cried at everything that tried to keep me from getting to the house, the sanctuary. The most comfortable place to vomit, LOL.

Because, if you're going to be as sick as a dog, you want to be sick at home. I don't know why that's true, but it just is.

After dealing with a road being forced down from 2 lanes to 1, a few slow drivers, and then having to force myself (while nearly in tears) to drive the speed-limit past the nearby school (with parents driving by to pick children up), I finally made it.

I pulled into the driveway.

And that, apparently, was as long as my body could wait. I unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the driver's side door, and proceeded to toss my cookies. Several times. Onto our front lawn. With my bra unsnapped under my blouse, and my jeans unzipped, because anything tight on my body was making the nausea worse.

I'm not sure if there were any witnesses. And I certainly didn't care at that point!

I dug around in my trunk, and found some kleenex, and did a little kleenup. [Kleenex should make that: a product called Kleenup. Why haven't they thought of that yet?] I walked around my car, carefully avoiding my former lunch, and dragged my work bag into the house. I hoped my untucked blouse hid the fact that my fly was open. Well, really, at that point, I didn't really give a rats ass.

I went back out, recovered my purse, closed the front door to my car, and somehow walked back into the house.

A few moments later, after some more cleanup, and after changing into comfortable clothing, and I was back outside, trying to rinse the mess off my lawn. The location on the lawn was right where my husband and I walk to get into the house. And where other people walk. It didn't seem a good idea to leave that toxic waste there.

I crawled back inside, called the cleaning service we use to let the know that it was probably not a good day to come by, seeing as I intended to camp out in the master bathroom for most of the rest of the day, and then got onto the horn with the makers of that aforementioned fruit drink.

They were honestly really nice, and I was actually nice, seeing as, although I still felt like shit, I felt so much better than I had felt PRIOR to losing my cookies that I was now in a manic-depressive-like good mood.

I'm refraining from telling you the name of the fruit drink that did me in. I believe the customer representative I spoke to is correct in his thoughts that spoilage might have occurred due to some problem in transit, i.e., like some idiot leaving a crate of these things outside when they should have been immediately deposited into a refrigerated container. And by that, I mean someone in charge of delivering the item, not anyone at this company's actual processing plant. I just get the feeling that this company cares too much about it's product to be careless. But I could believe that a delivery dude, having a bad day, might be a little blase about the refrigeration rules.

Anyway, if you hear of a recall of any fruit drinks in the Southern California area, my situation may be one of a few incidents causing the recall, LOL!!!

For some hellish reason, I chose to take a picture of my barf. Do NOT scroll down unless you are in the same morbid state of mind that caused me to actually capture that moment. Especially do NOT scroll down if you are feeling nauseated yourself. I mean, unless you WANT to induce vomiting. Then... by all means... scroll away.

I warned you.

On that note, I think I'll go make some weak soup...