squints painfully
Don’t eat an orange and then rub your eyes.
Yes. Be sure the door is all the way up, and secure, before letting it go crashing down on your head.
Corollary: don’t slice jalapenos (or any hot pepper) and then touch any mucous membrane area anywhere on your body. Rinsing your hands won’t be enough. You’ll need to scrub them with soap and water. And do it immediately, because you’ll probably forget if you don’t. And get a painful reminder. Best to wear gloves when slicing.
A box of nitrile gloves upped my kitchen game.
Further corollary: Don’t add a generous shake of hot sauce onto your morning scrambled eggs using the older, slightly-sticky bottle in the cabinet, and then go to put in your contact lenses after breakfast, without thoroughly washing your hands in the interim.
Shudder. That was a hard-learned lesson.
Life is a giant Rorschach Test.
To the extent that you can learn to slightly detach yourself from all that’s going on, it starts to become apparent that people’s responses to shared events tell you at least as much (read: much more) about them as they do about the event itself.
I wish I’d learned this at a very early age. I swung at far too many pitches that were never meant for me to hit.
My corollary to that is: if you say the right thing, and if you say it in the best possible way, you cannot take responsibility for somebody else’s reaction.
My mother’s corollary is: when the reaction is grossly disproportionate to the action, it’s usually something else.
Also …
When somebody doesn’t ask my opinion, they really don’t want my opinion. When they do ask my opinion, they generally don’t tend to want it either 
After finally getting contacts again for the first time since my teens, I now have something to genuinely fear; rubbing my eyes after pepper prep is bad enough, I can not IMAGINE the horror of putting in contacts afterward.
I learned that while making chili on a hot summer day. I was cutting habanero peppers, then wiped my forehead. The forehead sweat collected in my eyebrows, then broke and flowed directly into my eyes. I screamed in pain and ran to the shower to wash the habanero juice out of my eyes. I’ve considered habanero peppers the equivalent of poisonous viper snakes ever since.
Aaand, if your pizza is too hot, blow on it BEFORE you sprinkle red chili flakes (the little buggers can blow back toward your face and into an eye).
Never buy a rusty car. The non-rusty one will always be cheaper and better in the end.
Yikes! My eyes teared up when I read that one.
Not that I’ve ever done it, but I want to add to “the hatchback trunk”: it needs to be down before you back out of the garage. One of the parents at the school, looking at the damage on another parent’s vehicle: “yeah, I’ve forgotten to close it before backing up too.”; it must be a common occurrence.
The mint-scented shampoo smells nice, and a drop of it mixed into lavender-scented body wash smells even nicer. However, that mint scent comes from menthol, and menthol has a distressing effect on your mucous membranes. And your nether bits are mucous membranes.
So don’t mix the two substances when washing your nether bits.
Don’t peel an orange when there’s a cat on your lap. Especially if you’re naked.
Actually, don’t do anything with a cat when you’re naked.
One lazy Sunday morning after DesertWife and I had done the deed, when we were relaxing afterward The Kitten started mewing outside the bedroom door. DW got up, let it in, and picked it up intending on adding it to our cuddle pile. Just as she got to the bed it got all squirmy and she dropped it on my, claws first, right where it would hurt the most.
I accused her of throwing a kitten grenade.
Done that. Once.
Along those lines …
It really doesn’t matter one whit just how epic your day of mountain biking was, and/or how tired you are from the ride or the day of driving to/from the trails.
Do NOT pull into the garage without taking the bikes off the roof rack first.
A while back I was emptying the dishwasher, took out the plates and put them up in the cabinet overhead. Did not close the cabinet door, bent down to grab a handful of silverware out of the basket, stood back up and wham! Smacked my head on the bottom edge of the door. Not just a knot but tore the skin open and bled like a mofo. That sucker hurt for days. Now I always make sure that cabinet door is closed before bending down to get something out of the dishwasher.
I was a teenager on an early 747, Air France, and they’d put electric shavers at the back of economy. 3 of them, each in a cabinet with a mirror and a UV light for sterilization, and a top-opening ‘hatchback’ door. So I wander back and notice that there is a queue for 2 cabinets, and the third cabinet is free. I don’t really need to shave more than once a month or so, but this looks interesting. So I move to the vacant spot open the cabinet, grab the shaver, and …
The airplane hits a bump and the cabinet door closes on my head.
Ok, that’s why it wasn’t in use, but I’m not injured, I resume activity, and …
The airplane hits a bump and the cabinet door hits my head in exactly the same spot. My eyes water. My knees sag. I sway. Then I walk away.
The life lesson learned wasn’t just about airplanes and/or ‘hatchback’ cabinets. When I’m driving and I come to an intersection with a short queue for one lane… I remember that people join the long queue because the short queue is stalled, or goes to the wrong place, or has some other problem.
Yeah, a good many bus stops here don’t have pockets so the bus blocks the outermost lane when it stops. I’ll approach a red light, see a bus is waiting and switch to the inner lane behind five or six other people. Mr. I’m-so Smart tools up and stops behind the bus, well ahead of me. The light changes, the bus crosses the intersection then stops to let on or discharge passengers, and Mr. Smart is stuck behind, forlornly waiting for us more observant types to pass by so he can get around the bus.