The Universe attempted to tell me one of two things on Tuesday night:
1. I should not be eating tater-tots at midnight.
2. I should consider wearing less make-up.
Whilst baking those amazing nuggets of potato-y goodness with the oven set at 450 degrees, I bent down to inspect the browning progress (burned is a good way to describe my tot style). When I opened the oven door, I felt like someone punched me in the eye. Oh, and I smelled burning hair.
So that was a good sign.
According to the bathroom mirror, the oven was attempting to burn the mascara off my eyelashes.
"Ow" is right.
Now I have miniature red burn marks underneath my eyes.
Plus it hurt like hell.
But for some reason, I don't think I'll be following either of those suggestions anytime soon.
Thanks anyway, Universe.