beak

You know how that goes, the saying with the bug and the windshield?

Today. Running, and not even that fast. Bug. My eyeball.

I have eyeball injury concerns, which is how I like to phrase my abject horror over things not my contact lens entering my eye-bulb area. In fact, the top three things that horrify me are: accidentally drinking curdled milk, being forced into very close spaces with no immediate way out, and being injured in the eyeball.

(Yes, that one scene in “Minority Report”, yes. I know it.)

So today a bug flew right into my eyeball and I kept running because I am hardcore like that. The running was more of a “flailing majestically forward while attempting to wipe the bug out of the eyeball without touching the eyeball” which I bet was a hoot and a holler to watch during the morning commute.

In other news, I like running in the park.