I Hate Mornings

After two alarm warnings from opposite sides of my bedroom (courtesy of my cell phone and my alarm clock) I was finally able to pull myself out of my bed cocoon and creep into the bathroom to get ready for work this morning. Sleepy, soft and small, I started my day off by brushing my teeth, as I have probably 8,000 times before. Today was different though.

As I glazed the bristles with Arm & Hammer Baking Soda Toothpaste, which is grittier than I prefer, an invisible but deadly fleck of the toothpaste flew into my left eye.

I have had lemons squirt in my eye while prepping my water. I've had champagne sprayed into my eye on numerous New Year's Eves. I've had eyelashes, dust, hair, sawdust, food, mascara, dirt, mulch, paint, tissue and a finger in my eye before. Nothing compares to the instant and blinding pain of having toothpaste flicked into your eye. Pulling the eyelid out does nothing but spread the paste around, blinking helps to dissolve it but also spreads it around, crying helps melt it, but the minty fresh burn stays unbearably intense from start to finish.

And as if that experience wasn't bad enough, I found my first actual, real, no-kidding-it's-not-just-light-blond grey hair just minutes after my vision resumed. What a sight for sore eyes.