Anyhow, upon noticing her yuck-filled eye, I was all "ARGH -- THE DREADED PINK EYE! OMG BURN THE SHEETS! BUY A BUBBLE! YEE SHALL ALL BE CRUSTY-EYED BY DAYBREAK AND WE SHALL ALL SUFFER" because I'm totally hysterical over eye infections. Ask anyone who knows me at all -- eye infections make me so freakin' squirrelly that I need to be slapped a la Nicholas Cage in Moonstruck.
Ewwww eye infections... yucky slime and lots of overachieving germs just raring to spread pus-filled joy to any other eye it can infect. I felt so bad for my daughter and was so proud of her ability to resist touching her eyes at all. She's stronger than me. Of course, it turns out it wasn't the dreaded pink eye -- that would be too normal for my offspring. She had some eye/ear combo that made the doctors all go hmmmmmmmmmm but not before quizzing us on all our bovine or swine relationships in the past month. I responded by objecting to my husband being referred to as swine but they didn't get it. Their loss. Anyhow, they declared "this isn't pink eye" and then went hmmmmmmmmmm she's going to be very sick for a few days.
But as usual, I'm getting ahead of the story in fact, so far ahead that last part wasn't even necessary.
So back to before my tangent, when we still thought she had pink eye and I was all OMG red alert, red alert, danger danger, it's pink eye, piiiiiink eyeeee! I set about gathering up all the sheets, pillow cases, and towels in current circulation plus anything else obvious to wash in order to purge them of their filthy pink-eye germs with lots of hot water.
Of course Murphy's Law dictated that this infection happened on the same day that I actually had ALL the laundry done for once. All of it. Every last stitch. A phenomenon that hasn't happened in years. All the hampers were completely empty around the home.
Hampers, who's contents I had only MERE hours before laundered. Hampers that made me declare outloud how happy I was for their utter emptiness because OMG! I had all the laundry done. Done. Finito. As in no soiled fabric that could be stuffed in a drum to be found on the premises. Fait accompli.
I think my mistake was marvelling in the bleakness of the hampers and not taking into consideration how the hampers might have felt about being empty -- because what else could possibly explain this punishment of multiple loads appearing all at once? Seriously, what?
*head hits keyboard*
So now I had full hampers of laundry to do and when you are at the mercy of a laundromat as opposed to your own in home washer and dryer, it just compounds the crying more. Squares it even. Just like a trash compacter.
Between tears, I replaced all the towels in the bathroom with new fluffy ones and decided this was as good a time as any to wash my face. Why not? After all, I felt grungy and possibly infected plus the laundry-induced rage needed cooling. So I lathered on the nice cleansing cream, rubbed my temples and made my skin feel fresh again.
After thoroughly soaking my shirt while rinsing my face (I'm a spaz with my eyes closed)(even worse in the dark)(I'm highly entertaining in enclosed spaces) I blindly reached out for something to dry my face, found the towel I had just hung on the back of the door moments before and sunk my face into it's no-name brand spring fresh softness. All was good.
But pulling away, something felt wrong and I turned to the mirror while opening my eyes to see why my skin felt even dirtier than before.
There was something greyish, sticky, and ... fluffy all over my freakin' face.
What the? These were fresh towels and it looked like dust balls all over my face. As I leaned in close, something tickled my nose... then my eyes.
My towel was covered in cat hair. CAT F*&^$ING HAIR.
Turns out someone has been sleeping on the clean towels.
What's your point woman? stop interrupting my nap
Have I ever mentioned I'm actually allergic to cats? Yes I know I have two and I've pretty much had them all my life, so I'm not highly allergic, just mildly allergic and I love them (though I'm reserving judgement on that last statement for the time being). I've always managed to live with them as long as I don't touch my face after petting them and I don't know.... stop doing stuff like drying my face with a blanket made of their fur?
It felt awful. My nose itched for hours, my eyes felt sand-filled, and I was on the verge of bringing up a furball. Beautiful.
Anyhow, Gigi's eyes & ears healed quickly and I didn't bring up a furball post fur facial despite pulling a kitten's worth of hair out of mouth. And now once again, I'm behind in the laundry.