Greetings, Sparkpeeps, and welcome to the continuing series of indignities that is my life. You ought to get a kick out of this.
So there I was last night, stepping out of the shower and drying off, trying to get ready for bed. It had been a LOOOOONNNNG day, and Mrs. Karlsson was VERY tired. HOW tired became quite evident in the minutes to follow.
See, I'm one of those lucky people who manage to contract "bike rash" due to chafing and perspiration and so forth. Let's just say that the nether regions are a very uncomfortably itchy area after a ride. To combat this, I have invested in some anti-itch cream, the name of which escapes me right now.
As I was saying, I was going through my nightly ritual of treating the affected areas and reached for the tube sitting on the vanity. Everything was fine, but then there was the unmistakable odor of wintergreen. 'That's funny,' I thought. 'Why does it smell like Icy-Hot?' I got my answer soon after.
Ladies and gentlemen, let me say that I would not wish such an excruciating burning sensation in the nether regions upon ANYONE. Well... almost anyone. After trying to keep quiet and not alert my husband to my agony, I hobbled into the bedroom and tried to pretend that nothing was going on. My lethal expression gave me away. "What happened to you?" he asked. "I mixed up the Icy-Hot with the Cortisone," I whispered. He rarely laughs out loud, but he did this time. "Go get in the shower, quick! Before there's any permanent damage!" he said, trying not to wet on himself from laughing so hard. I dashed to the shower, and, about a half an hour later, the burning subsided.
I stood under the freezing stream of water, cursing the indignity of human existence, and then I thought that it was actually a pretty hilarious thing to do to oneself. I mean, really. It's hard to take yourself seriously when you do something that dumb.
Moral of the story: keep your muscle relievers close, but your cortisone closer, especially if the tubes are the same size and color.