Setting: Middle of the night, bedroom, dark.
Activity: Lingering sore throat has me reaching for the soothing, fluorescent-orange throat spray at all hours, including this memorable moment. Why didn't I just leave it on the bedside table?
Dumb thing: In the dark, I go to the dresser drawer where I store a large, unusually unrelated assortment of things. Among them: throat-spray bottle, leather-waterproofing-spray bottle.
Guess which one I spray into my aching throat? Guess how it then feels.
