My Eyeballs Need Pajama Jeans

I clearly remember when I got my first pair of glasses.  I was in second grade.  When I put on those glasses and looked out the window, I was able to read the name of the elementary school across the street from the optometrist's office.  Actually, it was the first time I saw the words period.  Prior to, I had no idea there were words on the building at all.

Also, movies make a lot more sense when you can see what is going on.

So, wearing glasses is old hat to me, almost as old as I am.  At age 13 I got contact lenses. The contacts usually were not a problem.  I kept them clean, and had no problem putting them on or removing them.

Up until today.

I recently switched to a new contact-lens-cleaning process.  You put this hydrogen peroxide solution in a special case that has a bit of some metal in it. The hydrogen peroxide reacts with the metal in the case to create a lot of little bubbles that clean the lenses.  And while you wouldn't want to put hydrogen peroxide directly in your eyes, after an overnight soak, the hydrogen peroxide has used itself up, or rendered itself harmless or something.  SCIENCE!

Unlike regular saline solution, you don't want to get hydrogen peroxide in your eyes.  So the bottle is fitted with a red cap to remind you not to put it in your eye.  The cap is red per the understanding that the people using the hydrogen peroxide solution may not be able to read something that says "WARNING!  DO NOT PUT IN EYES" in anything less than 128 point font.

What the manufacturers didn't count on was my utter inability to register color or meaning in the depths of my morning fog.

Fumbling around for my saline solution to wet my lenses before putting them in, my hand came across the bottle of hydrogen peroxide solution.  I put a couple drops in my contact lens and then, plop!  Onto my eye it went.

To say it burned is an understatement.  It was as if my eyeball was engulfed in the smouldering flames of the furthermost chasms of Hell.  And once more, I was forced to ponder....

In my scramble to remove the offending lens from my eyeball, I succeeded in moving it, but not out of my eye.  To the back of my eyeball.  So I started poking myself in the eye in an effort to push the contact lens to the corner of my eye so I could get it out.   It went something like this:  Poke... AARRRGGHHH ... Poke poke ... AARRRGGHHH AARRRGGHHH ... Poke, poke, poke... AARRRGGHHH AARRRGGHHH AARRRGGHHH!!!!!!!

Finally, I resorted to rinsing my eye with water from the same cup we use to rinse after we brush our teeth.  Not the most sanitary eye rinse, but given that I just set my eyeball on fire and then proceeded to stab at it, germs were not really a fear of mine.  My fears centered around the very real possibility that my eyeball was going to burn a hole into my brain.

After several cold water rinses, I was able to rinse the lens out of my eye into the sink.  Huzzah!  I'll just pour this extra water out and.... oh crap!

I rinsed the contact lens down the drain.

So now I look like a victim of pink-eye or possibly some form of stigmata, or maybe I'm just high all the time, and I have to wear my glasses all day long until I can trek off to the optometrist for new lenses.  Seeing as usually wear my glasses only at night, it's the eyeball equivalent of staying in my pajamas all day long.

Is there a glasses-equivalent of Pajama Jeans?  Please say yes.