Sometime later, she had to blow to her nose. Now, I'm not exactly sure on the details, but she said the Kleenex "broke" while she was blowing, so I guess her bare finger ended up touching her nose? Again, I'm not sure, but shortly after I found her laugh-crying in the kitchen about "hot peppers" holding a fingerful of yogurt up her nose.
And I laughed, too. More "at" her than "with" her, especially as she still had one finger up her nose, trying to hold yogurt in place (no easy feat, I assure you). I helpfully offered to remove most of the poblanos from her presence during the meal (by eating them).
A few days after this incident, I made our other HelloFresh meal: one pot chili with pork and black beans. Sidenote: I've only ever made chili with beef, so this was an interesting change. Oh, and the recipe involved one (singular) jalapeno: half of it minced into the chili, the other half in slices for "garnish." And as my sister taught me (even before the poblano-yogurt incident), I was sure to thoroughly wash my hands after handling, cutting, slicing, and mincing the jalapeno. And even after washing, I avoided touching my eyes, face, etc.
Later, a good twenty minutes later, as the chili had been simmering, but we hadn't yet eaten, I, too, had to blow my nose (my eyes had been watering when dicing the onion). My Kleenex didn't break. I'm not sure what happened, actually, but some of the jalapeno oil must have gotten somewhere, because a bit of my nose and my entire upper lip felt like they were on fire.
I washed my hands again. I tried lightly washing my face (with cold water, to ease the burning), I applying some light, soothing lotion, I put on chapstick, but still the burning remained. It wasn't awful; mostly just annoying, but my sister got a laugh out of it nonetheless. I ate the chili (delicious), and moved on.
And then after that, maybe an hour later, I was sitting on my bed, playing on my phone, whilst the boytoy prepared to leave for a few hours. I had an itch in...an unfortunate place...and, without thinking, reached down and lightly scratched said itch with my right index finger.
And within seconds I realized my mistake.
And I said, hoarsely, to the boytoy: "I should not have done what I just did."
"What?"
And I explained, my eyes growing wide as my crotch was burning with the fire of a thousand jalapeno suns.
I stripped off everything I was wearing from the waist down and did a strange hopping-waddle-dance to the bathroom to get a washcloth and soak it with cool water. I pressed the cool washcloth to my poor burning vajayjay, and it only partially eased the fire raging.
All the while the boytoy was torn between laughing at my antics and feeling bad for me: "Ohhh, honey!"
Sniffling, I asked him to run to the kitchen, get a small ramekin from the drawer, and put -- you guessed it -- some yogurt in it. While I continued to hop and apply the washcloth to my burning private parts.
I managed to text my sister (who was only in the living room, but I wasn't going anywhere, not having any pants on):
"The universe is cruel. I just scratched myself in an unfortunate place and apparently still had jalapeno on my finger.
I want to die."
She responded in the only appropriate fashion: with a GIF.
The boytoy brought me the requisite yogurt as I put a towel on my bed and prepared to lie down, apply the cultured balm, and suffer (somewhat dramatically). The boytoy had to leave; I had to call to my sister to lock the door after him as I wasn't going anywhere.
I texted her from across the penthouse one last time:
"I will be in my room until further notice."
While lying there with my yogurt-slathered crotch, I thought for a moment and then swiped a fresh smear some on my upper lip, too, as it was still burning.
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| I got your fucking spa treatment right here. |
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