The drop

I put ear drops into my eyes this morning.

I've wondered when it would happen, all those little bottles with uniform lids spilling from the kitchen island's mini-drawer.  We've got the pills to swallow, the ointments to rub, the drops for the eyes and then the ones for the ear.  The dog's flea pills are in there too.  Probably be a good idea to remove them-- surely it's just a matter of time before one of those is consumed by an early riser not paying attention to which capsule bottle they are opening.

The instant the drop dripped into the eye, the sting announced itself.  And perhaps, as I think back upon the moment now, I had an instinct that something was wrong.  There was a sort of hesitation of the medicine leaving the applicator inconsistent with the way an eye drop exits a bottle.  The ear drop, you may know, is thick and molasses-like in its pathway.  The eye drop, on the other hand, is quick in its journey; it employs a swift leave-taking from the plastic container with a direct shot right into the target.  At the moment between leaving the bottle to the moment it splashed upon the lid which, incidentally closed with such speedy instinct that I was again amazed at the incredible agility of the human body to protect itself, I knew I had grabbed the wrong thing.  Ear, not eye.

Thankfully the ear drops are homeopathic.   Therefore, it's likely that there are no real healing or harm doing elements present in either case.  Good news when the ear drop enters the eye but a bit less comforting when it fails to relieve any ill-intentioned earache.  Another reason to dispose of them altogether, I suppose.