Words from a Bird. Day 84
It's not every day you get hit in the eye with a foot long, yellow squeaky sausage...thus, my day began. Having already applied mascara (thank you Rimmel for giving me the appearance of 'awake' these past years) you can imagine what I looked like.
The satisfying 'thwack' across my left eye (my left, not yours) caused it to start gushing like a southern hemisphere geyser, with a blue/black river rapidly following on behind. Because of puppy duty this morning, I didn't really have much time to remedy the Coco the Clown/ChiChi look if I wanted to be in work on time. A rapid drag across the cheek with my sleeve in the car was all I had time for.
My work colleagues are either very polite (likely) or need better glasses, as not one of them mentioned my weeping, bloodshot eye until I brought it up in conversation. I did consider popping my sunglasses on, but the thought of resembling Ceelo Green for the morning wasn't a good one. Mind you, if I don't keep off the hot cross buns (Mrs S, that's you I'm talking about) wearing sunglasses indoors won't be the only thing I have in common with Mr Green.
So I am out for dinner this evening with some very glamorous girlfriends, and I am thinking about creating a trendy Gabrielle eyepatch out of some black knicker elastic and a foam insert from an old bra (those of you who are not challenged in that department will have no idea what I am talking about at this point).
Knowing my luck, I'll probably look more like Mackenzie Crook's character in Pirates of the Caribbean - not the look I am hoping to achieve, but if I can find a pair of stripy trousers, a tricorn hat and a wooden leg, I might pull it off.
Just for the record though, I haven't taken up self-flagellation with the aforementioned yellow sausage. I was beaten up by 10 inches of miniature schnauzer who wasn't that keen on a cuddle.
I haven't taken it personally, but the sausage is grounded...