All Pretty Colored Liquids are not Created Equal

I was not really happy to be awake in the first place. It was early...and I had been up late the night before. The mirror unabashedly told me about the smeared mascara around my eyes from the previous day, but this came as no surprise to me. I have a bad habit of never washing my face at night. I knew I could restore my face to it's base zero with a cotton ball soaked with my favorite eye-makeup remover, and a soft washrag dabbed with my favorite face wash.

The cotton ball went from light and fluffy to damp and dense as the liquid found it's place in the fibers. I closed my right eye and swiped the cotton across my lid.
Woah. This smells strong today, I thought. I clenched my lid shut tighter as it started to sting a little. I swiped a second time and a third before the stinging turned into a burning and I moved to my left eye to give the right one a break. As the lid of the left eye began to burn I stopped.
Wait a minute, I thought, I know this smell...

Nail polish remover.

NAIL. POLISH. REMOVER!

"What am I....?!?!" I exclaimed out loud. I dropped the cotton ball, turned on the sink water and began rinsing my eyes out. I tried to remember exactly what the bottle said regarding getting ACETONE in your eyes - something about 15 minutes, maybe? Warm water? Cold water? Thankfully I had my very own eye doctor snuggled in the bed behind my shoulder.

"Bri!" I said between the handfuls of water, "What do you do *flush* if you get something bad in your eye *flush* Warm water or cold water *flush*?"
"What did you do, Linds!?" he asked.
"Just answer my question!"
"It doesn't matter...just rinse! What did you do?"
"I'm acting like an idiot...that's what I did!" He came into the bathroom and picked up the open bottle of nail polish remover.
"Lindsay! Did you put this in your eyes?!" I felt like saying, Yes, Bri. I opened my eye and poured it directly in, but I swallowed the sarcasm and stayed silent instead. He started reading the ingredients on the back of the bottle and kept saying, "Oh, this could be bad. This could really be bad, Linds. This is acetone. Keep rinsing. Just keep rinsing." Unfortunately, the panic had done a number on my temper threshold and I snapped, "I know it could be bad, Brian...and I am rinsing!"

Eventually, my temper and the burning started to fade and it wasn't long before I was standing in front of the mirror, dripping and laughing at myself.

Moral of the story: Don't be an idiot.