Today, we shall revisit my eyeball, since it was so fascinating before. Or because it's my eyeball and it hurts, so you get to read my bitching about it.
Spending the weekend with the family was great. I got to see my amazing, cutest-kids-in-the-world nieces (I shall torture you with the cuteness in a moment), and check out some possible future places to live. All good stuff. The only downer was that I seem to be developing allergies, mostly in my itching eyes, which I haven't experienced since I was a kid. Then last night, after bath and story time with the kids, my right eye became increasingly irritated. Starting with an itch that wouldn't go away and progressing to a slightly stabbing feeling as if there was a small shard of glass stuck in there.
The man and I went to dinner, where I proceeded to leave the table on several occasions to prod at said eyeball, sure that if I could just get out whatever was stabbing, it would be all better. By the end of the night, it was red and swollen and put me into a miserable mood. By the time I woke up this morning, I looked like someone punched me in the eye. Fun.
Straight from the airport to the eye doctor, and I was informed that I have a gross and highly contagious infection. AND allergies. Sweet. More so because my man almost surely will get it, being that he had his fingers all sorts of near my eye, trying to fish the non-existent thing out of it, and my little tiny nieces with huge eyeballs may also have gotten it, which breaks my heart.
Holding my breath for the next week or so, really hoping that those eyes don't get all red and ouchie.
P.S. You know you have a good man when you look completely disfigured and he
a. does not run screaming
b. does everything possible to help
c. gives you his sunglasses, even though he has to completely warp them to fit your tiny head, so the rest of the world doesn't stare at your disfigured eyeball.
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3 comments:
Damn skippy!
With your P.S. you would have hit the nail on its head if some of them out there accepted it. Thank you for making a statement that I could never make.
Do you know the climax of my story? The man ran screaming, and the woman followed him while I stayed rooted in devotion, admiration and concern.
Hope you did not pass on the infections to the little ones. I like the way you write.
well, lov, the damsel in your story doesn't seem to be worthy of so much attention. that is the key...to find one who does.
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