This afternoon, I managed to lock myself out of the building at work. I'd stepped out to my truck in the parking lot to fetch something (it was ensconced comfortably in the Handicapped spot -- thanks, Medical Science!). When I tried the front door I realized I'd left my little magnetic key-card in my jacket pocket back at my desk.
There is a little subterfuge one can employ in this situation, but it involves walking about 100 yards to the parking garage and waiting for someone to use that door. For a man in my sore condition, this is not a minor undertaking.
I did what any red-blooded man in my situation would do: I screwed up my eyes, threw my head violently backward and then forward, and uttered one single extremely obscene syllable.
As I eructed this syllable from my mouth, a small pool of saliva went along with it. I'm not talking about a droplet or two, I mean a good quarter-teaspoon's worth. I really hadn't been anticipating cursing with such ferocity, and I didn't rearrange the buccal contents in anticipation. Clumsy of me, I know. With the accompanying vehement forward head-fling, the small blob (gobbet? loogie? lunger?) of spit splashed rather forcefully directly into my left eye.
Yes, that's right. I'd actually managed to spit in my own eye.
Ruefully wiping the goo out of my eye and off my nose with a sleeve, and gratefully noting that I hadn't been observed by anyone, I realized I'd actually been lucky, in a way. There are worse bodily fluids you can accidentally slosh into your own peepers.