Warnings are for Suckers

This morning, I plugged in my curling iron and balanced it on the small, flat space next to my sink. Then I turned the water on to brush my teeth.

Somewhere around my second swipe at my molars it occurred to me that running water and precariously balanced electrical appliances might not be a great combination to start my day.

Besides, running the water while you brush your teeth is wasteful. See? I'm always thinking of you, the taxpayers.

I turned off the water and put my toothbrush away. Then I reached for my deodorant in the medicine cabinet.

I opened the cabinet door and was greeted with an avalanche of beauty products. Well...actually...calling them beauty products is taking it a little far. I was really bombarded with band-aids, and foot cream, and coldsore ointment, and Midol.

My sparkly deodorant did a perfect nose dive into a cup of water, knocking the overflowing cup into the sink.

As a flailed my arms to try and contain the chaos, I knocked the curling iron right into the puddle of water in the basin.

For a moment, I stared at it in dumbfounded horror. What kind of dumb fuck kills herself by flying deodorant?

Then some adrenaline reached my fingertips and I grabbed the cord of the curling iron and yanked. Hard.

Which sent the burning hot iron flying through the air right toward my left eye.

I feinted right and stepped on a wet towel that had been left on the floor. I slipped headlong toward the shower tiles and grabbed the first thing my fingers made contact with. Unfortunately, I grabbed the shower curtain, and both the curtain and the rod it hangs from followed me right into the tub.

The cord of the curling iron somehow managed to get caught on the handle of the cabinet and it swung back to the right...just in time to connect with the end of the shower rod as my leverage made one end arc back up toward the ceiling.

With my body twisted sideways in the tub, my legs sticking out, my shoulder wedged next to the soap dish, and the right side of my face pressed into the tile, I saw the iron coming at me out of the corner of my eye.

I've never gotten my ass in the air so fast.

I managed to scramble away from the hot end of the iron, and the handle glanced off my left arm as it came to rest hanging by its cord over the side of the tub.

I stood up

I unplugged the iron.

I put on my deodorant.

And then I sat down on the toilet lid and contemplated how close I came to frying or disfiguring myself.

You know, they have labels on those things. Something about not styling your hair in the bathtub. What kind of stupid person would ever use an electrical appliance around water?

If you'll excuse me now, I'm going to go take a nap and blow dry my hair at the same time.

It's a real timesaver.