Are you one of these fortunate people who wake up in the morning and can see perfectly? Are you nodding your head and your twenty-twenty vision in agreement? Or perhaps you are shaking your head and your spectacles in disagreement.
I'm sorry to say, my eye sight is limited. In fact, it would be true to say, I could write a book about my eye sight and experiences due to my less than perfect vision. But instead of writing a book, I shall try to condense the perils of poor vision to one blog entry.
I visited the opticians today, for the umpteenth time in my life. Since I had a dose of blepharitis (inflamed eyelids) I'm always wary about eye tests and the outcome. "No blepharitis today," the optician informed me. Phew. That's one consolation. It's a very painful condition. So painful that I had to wear sunglasses in the office, as any kind of light was excruciating for my eyes, until the eye drops and anti-biotics kicked in, and my eyes stopped stinging and weeping.
I remember attending a very important office meeting in my sunglasses, and colleagues looking at me in disbelief. I'm sure they were thinking, "Look at her, she thinks she's some kind of celebrity." I tried to explain to as many people as possible that I had blepharitis, but I think that only made matters worse.
After this horrible eye infection I stayed clear of contact lenses for ages and stuck to my glasses. Until I got fed up with wearing my glasses and decided daily disposable lenses were the future (and hygienic). If you wear contacts, I'm sure you'll appreciate life is nicer in contact lenses, and you can see better.
The first ever time I wore contact lenses was at my cousins birthday meal at a bowling alley. I couldn't believe how clear the world was. "This is how normal people can see!" If only I'd known. If only I'd realised. Still, I was loving my new eye sight, until I couldn't get the darn lenses out.
After the birthday meal I joined some friends at a house party. After a few hours of talking and drinking, I remembered I was only suppose to wear the contacts for a short space of time, for my eyes to become accustomed to them. I disappeared to the bathroom to remove them. No sweat, I thought. They'll be out in a second or two, popped in my case, with solution, and I can re join the party.
My friends came looking for me after about forty five minutes. I was close to tears. "I can't get them out!" I wailed. My dear friends tried to help me by poking their fingers in my eyes, in the hope of removing them. This time I really was in tears. Tears of agony. We were in that bathroom for a very long time. We had to explain the situation to impatient people knocking on the door, and much to their disgust they had to use the downstairs toilet. The contact lenses eventually came out. Looking back, I'm not quite sure how I / we found it so difficult. But trust me, it was a mission at the time.
I have many other tales to tell regarding my eyes, but we could be here all day. So I'll finish it here, with one last short story.
In my past life, in the flat that time forgot, I was getting sick and tired of people coming and going and making too much noise whilst I was trying to sleep. One night I'd had enough of lying in bed, listening to the commotion, and trying to drift off. It takes a lot to wind me up, and on this particular night I was very wound up.
How inconsiderate these people were. Banging on the door, stomping up the stairs, raising their voices. Night after night this was happening and I had to do something about it.
I shot out of bed, shot into the hallway, practically shaking with anger, poked my head around the lounge door (remember, I had no glasses on or no lenses in) and I shouted, "For crying out loud, will you shut up or go home!" And I swore. (Sorry mum.) Everyone has a breaking point, and I broke that night. It's the only time I have ever shouted in the flat, in a peace protest.
After shouting, there was a deathly silence. Oh good, I thought, I think boyfriend and his tiresome friends Blah and Blah have got the message. They weren't really called Blah and blah, but their names are irrelevant. Anyway, I didn't find out until the next day that it wasn't Blah and Blah standing in the lounge. It was two police officers. And they were gob smacked that I had spoken to them in such an appalling manner. So was I when I realised my error! Whoops. Blame it on the eye sight. It's got me into all sorts of trouble.
I hope you all have a great weekend. Remember not to be rude to any police officers. If you can see them.
Picture of the day: