If you are a contact wearer, stay with me. If you aren’t then this might just sound ridiculous, but would we have it any other way?
I’ve decided that contact solution bottles when low in their supply, squeal with delight as their servitude nears an end. They get so excited at the promise of the recycle bin (denying the potential for the dump), that all they can do is go “Wheeeee!”
It totally sounds like that, right? Right.
It’s just like a sad ketchup bottle with digestive problems. *thurp* Oh, excuse you ketchup bottle. Oh, that was my brother, you say? Indeed it probably was.