Part of the medical follow-up on my nose injury was a visit to the opthalmology department this morning. My left eye is in a lot of pain and causing me these awful cluster headaches by the middle of the day…I haven’t been able to wear my glasses much because my nose hurts, which has caused some strain, and it turns out I also have swollen muscles in the back of my eye near the impact area.

So we all know that an exam of the eye can include pupil dilation but we may not know that the stuff they use now is different than when we were much younger divas and dudes. I remember being able to shop the entire length and breadth of Holiday Mart after my first dilation with that dark film frame they handed out to shield my eyes from the light. These days the solution is much stronger and involves two different drops, so you — er, I — can forget shopping.  Or reading, or walking in high-heels, or driving.

Which brings us to the horrible time I had while trying to get myself and my high-heels home after the opthalmology visit. I couldn’t see the license plate of the car in front of me and could barely make out the exit signs along the way. Did I just run a red light? Was that even a stoplight? Um…is that guy’s foot on the asphalt or on the sidewalk? OMG I used to go clubbing after a date with the eye doctor, what in the heck…oops, did I just hit a skunk? I hope it was a skunk…

Why are those cars headed right at m…OMFG…

I was a nervous wreck (fortunately not a physical wreck) when I got home. I had to call Broos but I couldn’t even find the “B” on my cell phone! Forget texting him, if I was lucky enough to correctly count the cloudy shapes that could spell out “BROOS” I was just gonna hit the talk button.  Success on the first try…he coughed into the phone and I knew it was him (he’s been fighting the Boomerang Flu). “I think I should stay home, unless you wanna come pick me up? I can’t see.”

Like I could get anything done, seeing as how answering emails or redesigning a schedule requires reading. He wisely suggested I take the day off, which I agreed to with one part of my brain while the other part was listening for police sirens to come after the woman in the black VUE who drove on both sides of a two-way street without, miraculously, killing anyone.

All this for fucking living room photos. I completely get that one must suffer for one’s art, but suffer for someone else’s art? GRRRRRRRR!

I should be fine by tomorrow, though at this moment in time my pupils are still dilated and things are still kind of fuzzy.  If this ends up getting posted properly it’ll be honest-to-goodness blind luck =D