yesterday i was washing a load of whites and somehow as i was pouring the clorox into the specialized bleach receptacle, about a tablespoon of it splashed into my right eyeball. at this point i'm not sure how much longer my right eyeball will last, as it is the eyeball that always catches anything that could remotely damage an eyeball. bugs, paint stripper, mascara,unidentifiable organic matter...etc. so, bleach. i have a history with bleach, mainly because, well, i love bleach. the idea of bleach is awesome. it BLEACHES things white, and it kills the AIDS virus. and because i'm someone who can dwell myself right into a panic attact at 4 in the morning because there was a lot of blood when i killed the mosquito on my arm last summer and a billboard that i read every day on my way home reads "Brother, you're all the same to me. HIV," i like stuff that kills deadly viruses. just the idea of it is comforting.
and to give a little history to the story, i get ringworm. i know it sounds gross, but some people have skin that is just more desirable for growing fungus than others. and i guess i'm one of them. if i so much as look at an animal or human who has a hidden or visible spot of it, bam. i got it too. i get it about once or twice a year when it's hot and muggy and the conditions are prime for growth. and ringworm is a bitch because it takes a stinking month of twice-daily care to get rid of. so, about three summers ago, during an internal tantrum over discovering yet another emerging ring beside the one that was almost gone, and having used the very last of my trusted tea tree oil at the very same moment, i became desperate, and vengeful. i decided that if bleach kills AIDS, bleach can kill ringworm. so i moistened a cotton ball with a dab of bleach and taped it over the ringworm on my leg, determined to get rid of it no matter what. naturally.
the guy i was dating at the time was a pharmacy student who was about to transfer to UGA Pharm school, so I'd say he knew a little bit about chemistry, and when he heard about what i did, i received the proverbial slap on the back of the head effect from the look he gave me. the bleach swab was removed, and i was scolded, by him right then, by my soon-to-officially-be father#2, and by my body for the next 4 months. for the next four months my hands, feet, and chest turned into a harvest of boil-like blisters. the doctor i finally went to wasn't particularly interesting in figuring it out, but said if i'd gotten bleach in my bloodstream it was possible my body was ridding itself of the poison by pushing it to the skins surface. oh well. the blisters finally went away, and no more bleach-cures for me. and i know i'm not really THAT stupid. but i really hate ringworm.
meanwhile, back at the ranch, the bleach splashed into my eyeball, and i ran frantically into my roommates bathroom, which is right next to the laundryroom, to rinse my eyeball. i ran in, turned on the first light switch i felt (because i had both eyes closed at this point, dont ask why) leaned over the sink and began dousing my eyeball with water.
just then, above the screams of pain coming from my eye, and the rush of water in the sink, and the frantic bewilderment of being momentarily blinded, i heard a terrible noise. it sounded like a bone being slowly scraped across a cheese grater. then it sounded like a prop-plane choking in mid-air and beginning it's decent back to the earth. it was a horrible metallic sound, and i squealed a classic rachel squeal, and jumped. when i jumped i put my hand on the sink to brace myself for whatever horrible thing was about to happen to me, but my hand immediatly slid because it was wet, and i flopped backwards and hit my head on the towel rack and fell in the floor with a nice big thud. so, being cornered, i assumed the "chill-out and be rational" self therapy that would be necessary for me to escape the apartment even though i was trapped in a bathroom with no windows and only one vent for the fan
the fan. the damned fan.
the fan in robs bathroom has been dying since we moved in. it used to sound like an engine warming up, and then one day it sounded different and rob commented that it had just started making that weird noise. but that day i wasn't home alone in a chilly apartment with all the lights out for energy conservation. the position i was in at the moment the fan gurgled to life yesterday was the position i imagine my cat stella feels when she just knocked over something that probably nearly killed her and then i angrily chase her around the apartment and close doors to all her getaway areas while i'm chasing her, and eventually she runs herself into a corner and rolls over and begins to shake (it's how she gets out of being reprimanded, by acting traumatized before you even scold her). that's how i think i felt crouched in the floor of robs bathroom. traumatized. by a spalsh of bleach and the ventilation fan.
today i'm going to the office to request the fan be replaced. we're out of bleach. and the spot on my shin that i've been convinced was dermatitis since summertime, has been determined by my paramedic friend to look "a lot like ringworm"
ta da
