I truly believe that Satan doesn’t want us to go to church. Why would he? Keeping me away from worshipping my God alongside my friends would be a great victory for him. And this morning… he played dirty.
This morning, I think Satan came in the form of toilet bowl cleaner. 
Fitting, isn’t it?
I got the bright idea to clean my toilet first thing this morning. I find the whole process to be dirty, so I try to do it right before shower time. So this morning, before I could have my first cup of coffee (which let’s admit, I don’t think clearly before that first cup of joe), I decided to pull a Martha move and clean my toilet. I opened up a brand-new container of Clorox toilet bowl bleach and went to town.
And that’s when a little splashed in my eye.
It didn’t really hurt, but I knew immediately that this could be very, very bad. I went to the sink and started flushing my eye out with cold water. Once I felt I had gotten most of it out, I picked up the bottle to see the bad news. 
Houston, we have a problem. I don’t need PERMANENT eye damage! I’m only 28! I’ve got a good 70 more years to use these baby blues. Not to mention that I have my Sunday morning routine down to the millisecond… not a single minute to spare, or I won’t make it to church on time. It’s not easy to be this naturally beautiful…  it takes a lot of planning, primping, plucking, poofing… you get the picture. No time to wash my eyes out for FIFTEEN MINUTES with water!
But I didn’t want to go blind. So I settled on a good 5 minutes of flushing. Ironic that I went from flushing my toilet to flushing my eyes? Sorry… chasing rabbits now. Back to the story.
During the five minutes that I hung my head over my bathroom sink, flushing my sad little eye with cold water, the hypochondriac in me started to flare up. Working at a hospital pretty much cured me of these tendencies, but suddenly, my brain started to burn. I was pretty sure the clorox had traveled up my eye canal, through my sinuses, and gone straight to my brain. Pretty soon I figured I’d turn loopy, start twitching and eventually fall to the floor in a tangled mess of limbs as the bleach burned out my brain from the inside out. They would probably discover me days from now, with Harley the Wonder Schnoodle standing vigil over my sad body, surrounded by his toys and tennis balls.
Plus my eye started to throb. But then I realized that I’d been flushing my poor eye with water for five minutes, so then I wondered if it was the bleach or the water. 
Finally I just gave up, went outside, watered my roses, jumped in the shower and got ready as normal. Three cups of my hazelnut brew later and all was right with the world. I was able to go to church sans eye patch, and it wasn’t even red. So hopefully that means I’m out of the woods. I think I’m going to live. Maybe. Probably. I think.

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