So, I am essentially blind. The only thing I'm missing is the seeing eye dog.
I mean, I have a dog. Let's face it though, she isn't leading me anywhere. I could just see being strapped to her for an hour.
Run down the back steps at full speed, becoming airborn at the third step from the bottom and projectiling ourselves out into the yard. Prance around to the left and sniff the side fence. Prance over to the burn pile to search for food or food like items. Prance over to the side gate to see if anyone is walking by who may have food or food like items to offer up. Prance over to where the cat hoarder's cats hang out to see if they've left any dead birds behind. Prance over to the other side of the yard and repeat. Continuing repeating the entire cycle for hours on end.
Yeah. She'd be a useless guide dog.
So, I'm left to my own devices, which include contact lenses that are as thick as dimes and glasses that are so thick and magnified, they cause a weird sort of funhouse mirror effect when you look at my eyes.
It's so hot.
Normally, I'm good about only wearing my contacts for 30 days, always cleaning them and just generally taking good care of them.
By 'normally', I mean for that first 7 months in my formative years when I started wearing contacts. The honeymoon phase quickly wore off.
Now, 30 days means 'as long as I can possibly extend them and not be in severe pain'. Of course, I still tell the eye doctor that it's 30 days. She doesn't need to know the truth.
Actually, this last time, I saw a male doctor. He was the flattest person I've ever met. Not flat as in some sort of freak accident that left him pancake like and able to slip into a room through the closed door crack.
I mean flat as in no emotion, no tone, no fluctuation in his voice pattern, monotone...flat. He was telling me all about how he had originally wanted to be a psychiatrist because it was so interesting and exciting but then he ended up going into optometry instead and OH MY GOD, can we please end this conversation because I'm so bored I may just stab myself with the plastic eye cover up thingy and then you wouldn't even be able to talk me down because you didn't become a psychiatrist.
Stick to the pupil dilation buddy. Story telling just isn't your thing.
Anyway, I only went to the eye doctor this time because it had been two years and my year supply of contacts was getting stretched a little thin. I was down to my last pair.
I'm still down to my last pair, actually because I have yet to order new ones. I'm bargain shopping even though I can't even wear them right now because they have become painful.
Apparently when you wear a 30 day contact lense for 90+ days, it becomes a raging ball of fire which ejects little pieces of razor into your eyes when you wear it.
It's just my left one, though. I happened to find a brand new right lense in my cabinet, so that eye is fine. The left, however, is in desperate need of replacing.
When I put it in, my eye immediately looks like I've hemorrhaged. It's super sexy. MB can't even stand to look at me because he has this eye thing. It's kinda like my vein thing, but less legitimate.
So, I'm now wearing my super thick funhouse glasses while I procrastinate about where to get the cheapest contact lenses.
My glasses suck. I'm squinting at everything, which gives me a headache. They slide off my face constantly. They also seem to be making me deaf. Since I can't really see with them on, I also can't hear.
I guess it's kinda like amputees who can all of a sudden taste things that are really far away. Or something.
You would think I would make this decision quickly and efficiently so I wouldn't continue to squint and yell at everyone.
When I can't hear, I yell. Just like when a patient doesn't speak English and I speak louder and more forcefully so they'll get it.
I don't know though. Some people have been complimenting me on my spectacles. One guy said I looked like a sexy librarian. Another friend said I looked smarter.
Apparently, these people aren't afraid of funhouses.
Or, they like little old librarians who squint and yell.
Maybe this will be the fetish that gains me internet fame, allowing me to work from home and have 7 special needs dogs.