The Boy and I went out a few nights ago with him in full drag. When we got home, he peeled off his fake eyelashes and - I guess not knowing any better place to put them - stuck them to the door of the little cabinet thingy that hangs over our toilet.
 |
| Ssssh! It's sleeping. |
Neither of us has since bothered to move the eyelashes to a more reasonable place, so every time I'm in the bathroom I see them out of the corner of my eye and my brain goes "AAARGH CENTIPEDES!!!" I don't scream out loud or anything, but I get a little jolt of adrenaline up my spine for half a second before I realize that the dark floofy things in my peripheral vision aren't bugs.
Because I really hate centipedes and am rather forgetful, I manage to get freaked out by these damn eyelashes ten or more times a day...sometimes pretty much right in a row.
Because I am lazy, I haven't bothered to
put the eyelashes away so they'll stop scaring me.
I wonder...could these minor startles count as cardiovascular exercise? Is glimpsing these fake eyelashes on the front of my medicine cabinet
actually making me healthier because it makes my heart pound? 'Cause, I mean...being mildly scared a dozen times a day sucks, but it still beats the hell outta jogging...
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