Making Pickles, or How to Shower with Your Eyes Closed

I make pickles. I make good pickles. They involve garlic and dill and vinegar. And red chili peppers. I don't particularly like chili peppers because I don't particularly like capsaicin, that nasty chemical that sears the all it comes in contact with and makes your eyes water. I've always been a little perplexed by people's love of hot food, but to each his own, right?

Last Thursday, I decided to make pickles using the suggested amount of red chili peppers. I buy the generic red chili peppers, so they aren't particularly hot, but they do have a kick. In the past when working with these I have had the misfortune of touching my nose, which produced the aforementioned burning sensation in my nostrils, watery eyes, and much cussing. Since then, I've become smarter about my peppers and wash my hands at least a half a dozen times when working with them. This was certainly true this time since they seemed to possess a greater than average amount of seeds, and as all the pepper-wary folk know, this is where capsaicin lives. The pickle-making was without incident. When I was finished, I wandered into the living room to paint my toenails. Half an hour later, my eyes began to itch...

I think we all know where this is going.

I was smart, truly I was. I had washed my hands repeatedly, and when the itch started, I used the back of my wrist, surely a chili-free zone. Alas, this was not true.

I immediately jumped to my feet as that weird, numb burning sensation began to spread from my lower lash line to my actual eye. Stumbling down the hallway, my agonized mind decided that what I needed was my makeup removing clothes, which were wet and extremely cold, both of which sounded appealing. I still had mascara on, you see, and my mind--let's blame it on the turmoil caused by the pain--thought it was necessary to remove the mascara lest it run, flake, and otherwise exacerbate the problem.

I began to wash my face with the cool cloth. And the cold felt wonderful. At first. Those makeup cloths are thin, and whatever residual capsaicin that had remained stubbornly in place through my hand washings was now in my eyes. Both of them.

At this point, the entire episode turns into a bit of a farce. While hopping from one foot to the other, muttering (screaming) a strong of expletives, I quickly determined that I could not open either eye without howling in pain. This ruled out the kitchen sink as a possible eye washing station as I did not think stumbling blindly from the bathroom to the kitchen was an intelligent decision. The bathroom sink, I deduced, did not have a high enough faucet/basin clearance to fit my head under the stream of water, so that left only the tub as a possible route to relief. So I groped by way to the bathtub, turned on the faucet, knelt awkwardly over the tub and stuck my head under the water. But sadly, it turns out my neck only bends so far, and I could only get adequate water/eye contact on my left eye. There was nothing else for it. I was going to have to get in.

I dithered. The pain was bad enough I actually weighed the advantages of disrobing, but common sense took hold and I blindly threw off my clothes, started the shower, and climbed in...after running into the wall and towel bar, which caused a considerable increase in the expletive output. Finally, at last, I stood in the shower and let the lukewarm water flush out the burn. Five minutes later I could open my eyes. Half an hour later, the burning swell around them had decreased enough I could open them all the way. After this episode, I called my mother to lament my now blotchy, tender face before collapsing into bed. At 8:30.

Red Chili Peppers-1, Allison-0. But I live to fight another day. I'm making pickles again this week.

Those chilies won't know what hit them.

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