Grown Woman Fail: My Future Began More Gross Than Bright!

11 Jan

So, do you all remember two Saturdays ago when I was boasting about my New Year’s purchase, and again this past Wednesday when I mentioned my 24-hour symptoms?  Well, it seems that the two instances were inextricably connected!  Apparently, in my eagerness to acquire a new pair of sunglasses in preparation for my 2011 total global dominance awesomeness, I was saddled with a stylish but tainted pair of shades that would prove to render me utterly cyclopic for a day and a half.

Out on an unseasonably warm first day of 2011 with the honey, we did lunch (pre-fast) and in the process, I snuck in a bit of shopping.  Swinging by my favor department store’s sunglasses rack, it took me all of ten minutes to select and don the absolutely perfect pair of eyewear that epitomized the poise, sophistication and hint of swagger I wanted to represent in the New Year.  Unfortunately, what I ended up purchasing was a virtual breeding ground for ocular pathogens that no hygienic grown person should still be susceptible to in the 21st century.  Waking up the next morning, I was greeted with the sort of infirmity that would make even the most faithful “in sickness and in health” vow making husband look for an escape clause.  Not quite sure of what could have triggered his “what the…” face and hasty recoil after leaning in for my morning kiss, I quickly skittered to the bathroom to discover a wilted right eye that made me a dead ringer for Quasimodo!

After a quick warm water flush and the application of a washcloth, I began my investigation into how in the world I ended up with pink eye.  First checking on the kids to ensure I hadn’t gotten it from them, I then began jogging my memory to determine why this crusty-eyed plague had descended upon my house.  It wasn’t until after I confirmed my doctor’s appointment that it dawned on me that the only time my eyes received any out of the ordinary exposure was when I’d worn the devil’s optical instruments my new glasses.  Beyond enraged, I began searching my purse and wallet for my purchase receipt, totally prepared to return the offending accessories, with a side of customer service reaming out for good measure.  One call and thirty minutes later, my eye was still pink but I did have the apology and assurance of the store manager that my money would be refunded to me and that I could choose another pair of glasses at no additional cost (yeah…no).

Now leery about trying on anything not already shrink-wrapped or custom made thanks to the nastiness of my fellow man, my year has commenced with me disinfecting just about everything that I’ve purchased.  Sheesh, it looks like yet again, I’m in for one heck of an eventful year, huh?

 

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