So, I recently went to the eye doctor and realized that I am, in fact, getting old way before my time.
It's a sad realization. One day, you are beebopping along to NKOTB. Then...WHAM!...you are in the doctor's office crying because you can't see the big E on the eye chart.
Yep. That big E.
I seriously could not see the big E. Hell, the words on the screen right now are pretty fuzzy. I;m playing thot the typas are it a minymom.
My eyes have been red and irritated for 2 weeks now. This has prompted such delightful questions as: "Do you have pink eye?", "Are you crying?" and "Whoa. How hungover are you?"
Fun stuff. When the doctor saw me, she said I have edema (swelling) in my eyes (barf) and that's making things fuzzy. She can't even examine me for a new preacription until it clears up.
This was my conversation with MB regarding the diagnosis:
Me: So, I have edema in my eyes.
MB: Edema? You know what that means, don't you?
Me: Yeah. Swelling.
MB: No. It means you have fat eyes.
I'm considering separate bedrooms for a punishment period of 30 days.
Anywho, I'm functioning in a fog right now and it's kinda scary. Especially with a puppy in the house. It makes that midnight trek to the fridge for...apples, yeah apples...a whole lot more dangerous. The question of is it poop or that stupid toy hedgehog becomes much more difficult to answer. I pretty much step over it and wait until MB wakes up. If he yells, it's poop.
Then, I pretend to be sound asleep while he cleans it up.
Trickery is fun. Love you, MB. Smooches.
I'm supposed to go back to the doctor on Tuesday to see if my stupid swelling (barf) has gone down enough for them to do an actual eye exam. Then, we'll see just how thick my glasses will be this year. Yay!
Of course, MB had an eye exam recently during his physical for the fire department. He was told that he has 20/8 vision or something ridiculous like that. It basically means that he has better than perfect vision. In his eyes, he is some sort of super hero who can see into the future.
It's super annoying.
I'm now considering 60 days.
While I await the swelling (barf) to go down and my eyesight to return to normal, I'm relying on Atticus to guide me. That's how desperate I am. The one who eats poop is the one I'm trusting to keep me from falling down the steps.
Wish me luck!