So with people moving out of the house, and spring knocking on the door, today was devoted to cleaning. Sunday, a day of rest? Not here (this week, at least).

9 a.m. I was at the supermarket to get supplies.

Dressed as a scatter-brained nerd come hardware store clerk in blue plaid, I roamed the aisles looking confused. I knew what I was after. I’ve done this before, I swear! But there were so many people! At nine on a Sunday. This part of the world’s never existed to me before (at least, not hungover).

To help with the weird looks I was getting, I loaded my shopping basket with thick rubber gloves, giant black rubbish bags, and what was apparently a year’s supply of bleach ($2 for 2L, people – bargain). Turns out that makes for a very suspicious grocery run.

Flash forward a couple of hours, the house is clean(er), and the bathroom is sparkling. The kitchen floor could do with clean… Cue bleach in the eye.

Bleach. Eye.
That mo-fo hurt. It burnt. My eye. MY EYE!!!

Walking into walls on my way to fetch my water bottle from beside my bed, I collected a variety of new bruises, and eventually got to a water source to flush out my eye. Oh, sweet cold relief. Fresh, clean water, you are the best invention ever.

I sat on my porch pouring water into that eye for a good half hour, waiting for the pain to stop. I feel for my neighbours – it was like a one-person wet t-shirt competition (white shirt and all), but I sure wasn’t enjoying myself. Sorry guys.

Then I went about the rest of my day, with my right eye rocking a steady stream of tears. The human body is awesome, guys. Tears = boogers = more cleaning. Right? The whole keeping-my-sight thing made the boogers totally worth it.

My eye’s fine now, though my eyelid’s a bit puffy from where I’ve been rubbing it. It just looks like I’ve been crying, rather than fighting fire on my cornea.

Drama Queen? Me? Never.