I got a pair of broken glasses in November and an eye appointment two weeks ago to replace them. Ignored at that doctor’s office, I made a new appointment, today, with another eye doctor.
I got my appointment rescheduled earlier this week. Seems the doctor didn’t want to come back to the office after lunch. So this morning, then, I waited 75 minutes to meet the doctor. I got this picture of the chart while I waited. I zoomed in on my camera phone, and then zoomed in on the picture so I could read them. When the doctor did come in he managed to not introduce himself.
I got into a long debate with this new doctor because he somehow ascertained that his machine told him a radically off result for my vision. That meant a lecture by the doctor because, I think, he somehow assumed that this error was something I was advocating. We followed that up with the pleasure of someone sticking their fingers in my eyes.
And I got a trial pair of contacts and the persistent sensation that something is in my eye. Perhaps because something was in my eye. Even now, with them out, and maybe I did that right, it feels like there’s something in my eye. Also, so far, I find that putting them in is easier than taking them out.
I’m still not sure what all of the letters are on the last line.
I got the perverse pleasure of watching my 16-gallon gas tank fill up beyond 16 gallons. Coasted in again. And I received the joy of filling up for less than $40, which was great after the expense of the eye test.
I got a very average haircut from a stylist perfectly uninterested in small talk. The extent of it was pointing out the cowlicks.
And, tonight, we got to have dinner with Mae Margaret, an old Auburn friend.
