Earplug

Day 79: Yeah, that little bastard, right there. I was sitting in my chair, puzzling out a word game on my Kindle and Tippy, resting on my lap, was intent on something overhead. I looked up to be sure it wasn't a spider, heard something ping off the hot lightbulb in the floor lamp, felt something strike the side of my face and then, before I even had a chance to raise my hand, it bounced into my ear. Thoroughly discombobulated by the turn of events, the affronted housefly dove for safety into the nearest hole where it was trapped by hundreds of tiny hairs angled in toward the depths of my ear canal. Unable to back up, the fly scrabbled deeper, beating its wings and buzzing to rival your best 36" Stihl chainsaw. By the time I managed to get out of the chair to run screaming and cursing to the bathroom, the fly had become hopelessly ensnared. I tried to flush it out, which only incensed it further, so more buzzing and burrowing ensued, and by the time I had succeeded in drowning it, it was in too deeply to reach with my botany tweezers (never mind that you should never stick anything in your ear except your elbow). At that stage in the game, there was nothing for it but to call my doctor who, as luck would have it, was still in the office although it was near closing time. He knew I had an hour's drive to get there, but still told me to come right down.

In the office, they tried to flush out the grisly remains of my drowned passenger. It wasn't budging. Doctor was on the verge of sending me to an ENT specialist on emergency status, but said he was willing to try to remove it himself with the warning that, "...since it's right up against your eardrum, this is going to hurt...a lot." He wasn't kidding. As I gripped the edges of the examining table and shouted helpful comments like, "Bloody hell! Oh, ow, goddamn!" he dug for the culprit and finally dislodged it. Upon being shown the evidence of his skill, I said, "Put that son-of-a-bitch in this test tube. It's gonna be famous on Facebook tomorrow." And there you have it, my earplug removed. Doctor's parting words, designed to inspire great faith in medical professionals, were, "I can't believe I got that out of there without damaging your eardrum." And I am done...DONE, do you hear me?...with holiday disasters. No more. I quit. I'm going to bed on November 30 next year, and I am not going to get up until January 2.