The cost of mysophobia (and a little stupidity)

If you wear glasses, you'd know what these are:

Yup. Nose pads. Silicone saddle bridge nose pads.

I can never bear it when they stain green from mould. Well, I guess it is a normal phenomena, considering that our skin stays moist throughout the day. Natural moisture. Perspiration. Tears. Etc. Etc. (Sorry if this is gross.) Even if you maintain meticulous skin and glasses hygiene, mould happens. Silicone nose pads are ideal petri dishes to culture mould.  

The thought of microbes lurking so close to my eyes, nose, and skin sends shivers up and down my spine. Mould is one of the things that make my nightmares tick. I hate mould. Mould on walls, mould on furniture, mould on books, mould on bread, mould within my nose pads.

And so, whenever I see any hint of green, I'd go into panic mode. The last time it happened, I clawed out very desperately the mould with my fingernail (don't ask me how I did it). It turned out to be a successful endeavour. The nose pads stayed intact. I, of course, disinfected my hands after the hard work. 

Today, I spotted green again. Panic mode got me clawing again. 

Unfortunately, I broke the first nose pad I tackled. 

It didn't strike me as odd at first... that the silicone parts fell off the nose piece so easily. I thought, hey, perhaps I've finally figured out a way to clean those nose pads without having to push my fingernail down to their bases. Happily, I washed the silicone and proceeded to snap off (read: "break") the nose pad from the remaining nose piece the same way I had done for the first one. Washed it. Scraped off the mould from the nose pieces. Washed everything else. Dried everything. And then, I tried mounting the pads on the nose pieces. 

To my frustration, they wouldn't mount. After many attempts, I brought the stubborn paraphernalia to the hubby.

"They are broken!" he laughed. "You broke them!" 

"You should have taken your glasses to the shop. They could have replaced those pads for you."

"Bring your glasses to the shop tomorrow. Get new nose pads." 

Light dawned. The sad, immaculate but now-useless silicone bits have been discarded. I feel stupid - as stupid as can be.

My glasses are now perched awkwardly upon my nose. Tomorrow can't come soon enough.