No, I’ve not developed a sudden appreciation for Milton. To tell the truth, I’ve only read a couple of his poems, that one included, and did not quite get it. Like most poets his work warrants more in-depth study if one truly wants to appreciate it, and I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.
Today I went for my bi-annual eye test. I am blessed with severe short-sightedness from both sides of the gene pool and have been a proud member of the four-eyes club since the age of eleven. But even twenty-two years later I still find eye tests a harrowing ordeal.
First there’s that chair that is so very reminiscent of a dentist’s torture bench, but the optometrist’s equipment is so much worse. I mean, with a dentist you see all those drills and hooks and clamps, straight out of an Inquisition ‘R Us catalogue, and you know pain is in your immediate future.
But in the optometrist’s office you come face to face with all manner of lenses and lights and headgear that seems like it will allow this stranger to peer straight into your soul and possibly wipe your mind and leave you a blubbering, brainless mess…
And then there’s the questions. One or two? Red or green? Better with this lens or without? What if I give the wrong answer? Will he think I’m a total idiot if I can’t guess correctly between only two options? I hate it, I tell you. Absolutely hate it.
And today the worst happened: after the test was done the optometrist took my glasses. He said he had to send them away to have the new lenses fitted, but I’m sure I got too many questions wrong, as all my previous optometrists had always fitted the lenses while I waited. Consequently I have only my contact lenses until Wednesday, which is very inconvenient.
See, my eyes auto-reject my contacts the moment the sun sets. It’s uncanny. The moment dusk rolls in my eyes lose all lubrication and my contacts scratch me like crazy. As I’m sitting typing this I’m blinking about three times a second just to keep my eyes lubricated.
This also means if I have to get up in the middle of the night I’ll be navigating by feeling alone, as I can’t sleep with my lenses in (the afore-mentioned lubrication issue), and without them I can’t distinguish facial features at two metres (or six feet for those of you who count in ‘merican).
It’s a long way yet to go until Wednesday, but I’ve learned my lesson already. I’ll be studying for my next eye test, make sure I get full marks…
By the way, I haven’t showed you the other Valentine’s card the wife made me (yes, I got two):
6 thoughts on “On his blindness”
Oh I have a year’s worth of contacts stored up because I hate touching my eyeball. I watched too many horror/thriller flicks where someone’s eye gets poked out.
That doesn’t bug me at all. In fact, I don’t even need a mirror to insert and remove my contacts. But then I don’t really watch horror 😉
Oh. My. Word! Thought it was just me! Few things stress me out as much as an eye test, for exactly that reason: what if I get it wrong? I can never, ever tell which one is better, one or two. One? Or Two? Hmmm… ok, we’ll try again… One?……..Or two…. I sometimes ask for a third option, or sometimes I just shout “I don’t know, dammit!” I suspect my optometrist drinks after all my visits. I know I do.
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And the optometrist never even tells you whether you’re right or not at the end. I think the test is rigged – you can’t pass. It’s like if you go for your license without bribing the testing official. You can do everything right, they’ll still fail you 😉
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