…an eyeful

Hey, I’m tentatively revising my wholehearted recommendation for eye surgery. I’m thinking that there are downsides that are only just now becoming apparent.

It’s obvious that I have lost the sympathetic ear. “No, Mom, you can find your own keys. I know you can see them now,” and “Dad says it’s safe for you to drive us.” I can no longer use the missing contact lens excuse for my haphazard mowing, sweeping, mopping and paper chaos.

Dear Journal,
Life is filthy and some things are best left unseen, i.e., television and the whole of every election campaign. I’m thinking it’s a shame my hearing is still good. T.

I was legally blind and loving it! Even corrected, I could never really see as far as the floor and though my eye-doctor doesn’t promise perfect vision, unfortunately mine is now good enough to notice dirt in the corners, the film on the mirrors, the dust on the pictures and the crust on the windows.

I’ve decided that visually challenged is not necessarily a bad way to go through life.
Flying about blind as a bat had other heretofore unrealized benefits, and the best was that I never knew my shower was filthy. There is a whole new world open to me in the bathroom now that I’m not walking around with scratched glasses, peering into a foggy mirror. The worst of these seem to be connected to my being unclothed. I lived in my own little fogbank and sometimes life is simply better that way.

Reality Bite: There is an upside. When I put in the milky eyedrops and life returns to a haze, everything can again be beautiful.