Any color will do, as long as it’s not red.

I am a genius at avoiding doctors and tooting along, afloat on a sea of pain, until such time as the body part in question actually falls off and I have to get it Crazy-Glued back on.

A couple of months ago I mentioned these damned eye troubles, which I had checked out by the local optometrist, who said it was just a little eyestrain. At the time, some of my intelligent, perceptive readers suggested that I should go see an opthamologist. And I told them to shut up. In my head, I told them that.

But here I am, in 2007, and my condition has not spontaneously resolved itself. I pay for any time spent on the computer with watery, bloodshot eyes. My eyes burn as if I have not blinked in months. And yet blinking is one of my favorite pastimes. I look like a stoned basset hound. I am none of those things. Yesterday I foolishly wrote for an hour without taking a break, and later that day, driving Henry home, had to pull over because my eyes were tearing so badly that I couldn’t see. As I have learned, you need to see in order to drive. As the tears shot out of my eyes, soaking my scarf, puddling in my shoes, I thought, hmm, maybe I should see a doctor?

All of which is to say that I’ll be back next week, I hope with some fresh new eyes. Maybe they’ll be hazel!