Surviving College

My grandpa drove my car.
And I know this shouldn't bug me as much as it does, but it does.
A lot.

He moved the seat back and complained to me about how he couldn't move the seat back because my memory foam mattress pad was wedged behind the driver's seat.
Well? I wasn't expecting him to drive my car. It's not my fault.
Oh, and he didn't move the seat back to where it was when he was done.

Then he pointed out my broken headlight casing. He said I needed to get that fixed. I told him I'm already working on getting that fixed. Which is true. And then he informed me that the light was out in the headlight. Which, it wasn't yesterday when I drove it. He must have messed with it and broken it even more.
And that pissed me off all the more.
He messed with the brightness of the interior lights as well.

I think I'm PMSing, but today has more or less sucked regardless, and the fact that he drove my car was the straw that broke the camel's back. I was ready to crown him. But he's my grandpa. So I didn't.

Today I didn't go to church because I'm SICK AS HELL. Mom let me sleep in as long as I wanted. Which was like, 9 AM. Because I couldn't breathe. Because I'm sick. Sick as hell. I ate canned peaches for breakfast and tomato soup for lunch accompanied by a Psych marathon and half a box of mint sandwiches.

Later, once mom was home, we went to go pick up my younger brother from his father's house. My mom has been driving my grandpa's car up to Park City every night because her little Toyota Camry won't make the climb up the icy hill to her house. On the way to pick up my brother, we went to McDonald's. I was trying to make room in one of the cupholders for my Large Root Beer, so I moved the Eclipse Gum container into the glove compartment. As I was attempting to shut the wretched glove box, I was sprayed. I thought it was a small can of WD40 or something harmless like that, but then it started burning.
Pepper Spray.

The glove compartment had its own special spot for a can of mace. And somehow, by forcing the glove compartment shut, I managed to spray myself in the face and all over my hands with "Paralyzer + Pepper."

I. Was. Pissed.
Pissed, I tell you.

I ran frantically into the McDonalds and probably scared the poor kid cleaning the bathroom to death with cries of, "I just need to was my hands, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" and continues to wash my hands and face ferociously with the McDonald's hand soap. When that didn't work, I attempted to cover my entire face with my own saliva, but that didn't help either. It still burned.

If you've never experienced the wrath of pepper spray before in your life, please, let me explain to you how it feels: it feels as if your face is a giant tongue and you just ate the world's hottest chili pepper. You feel as if your face is ON FIRE. It's on fire and your skin is melting off of your skull. I tried to be a grown-up and calmly explain to my mother just how agonizing the pain was, but all I could really get out was sob, sob, sob. My mom called poison control and they said that the burning would go away on its own. I tried sticking my face in the snow. I tried keeping my cold cup of Root Beer to my face. No go. All I could do was sob and wait for it to go away. My eyelids were on fire. My throat. Especially my nose. I. Just. Wanted. To. Die.

I tell you, if that's what hell is like, I'm turning my life around today.
From this moment on, I will be Saint Alexa.

So I'm even more pissed at my grandpa for being idiotic enough to store a can of pepper spray-- facing forward, no less-- in his glove compartment where his poor, unsuspecting granddaughter could seriously injure herself or permanently damage her eyesight. I'm happy to announce that my eyesight is still intact, by the way.

So the moral of this post is...
I'm pissed off at my grandpa.
The end.