So last week my right eye all of a sudden started burning and tearing up and spitting out yellow goop.
Let me just tell you how much fun that was. (Stretches arms wide) THIS FUN.
I took my contacts out and wore my glasses for the rest of the day. When it still wasn't better the next morning, I called and made an appointment at a random doctor's office near DreamSchool and said "Pleeeeeeeeease do something to make my eye better! I cannot stand my glasses!'*
*Note: I like my glasses. I do. But a) my nose looks bigger in them and b) my depth perception is WAY off when I wear them vs. wearing contacts.
So they said that I could come in that day at 2 p.m. -- when I'm supposed to be at work. I called DreamSchool's Admission office, explained the situation, and they said (and I quote), "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE STAY AWAY WE DO NOT WANT PINK EYE."
And I said, "...PINK EYE?!" followed by several colorful expletives that I won't repeat here because I try to keep things family-friendly on a nanny blog. In my head, I thought, It CANNOT be pink eye. Where would I have gotten pink eye???
But I pushed that thought aside and went about my merry way. On that particular day, it was supposed to hit 60 degrees (!!!) after weeks of rain and cold and heavy jackets, so I decided that to mark this delightful warm-day occasion by (GASP) SHAVING MY LEGS so I could wear a skirt!
Yeah. Here's where it gets funny. See, I'm blind. Legally so, without my contacts in.
But I couldn't wear my contacts because of the itchy burn-y eye crap.
And I can't wear my glasses in the shower because the fog! the fog!
So I had to shave blindly.
It was not pretty.
I was throwing my razor around just trying to whack away any and all hair and nicking myself in the process and causing my roommates to whisper, "What the heck is WRONG with her? Has she finally gone off the deep end?" and scaring small children but I FINISHED SHAVING WITHOUT BLEEDING OUT YAY FOR ME.
(Let's just not talk about the fact that I had hairy patches ALL up and down my legs that I could see once I got out of the shower, dried off, and put my glasses back on.)
But I didn't let a little hair stop me from slapping a skirt around my waist (and a few other pieces of clothing like a shirt and a bra) and heading out to the doctor. Where I was treated cruelly. CRUELLY.
Here is what happened:
I get into the examining room, and the nurse tells me she has to weigh me and take my height. I whimper, tell her that it'll save us both time if she just writes down 4 feet 11 inches tall and 105 lbs (HA! HA HA! I CRACK MYSELF UP). She doesn't buy it and makes me hop on the scale (WHIMPER) and then have my height checked.
The whole time she's measuring me I'm assuring her that it'll be 4'11, no higher, no lower, that's what I've always been since like 4th grade, and yes I stopped growing that long ago, I know, yes it's difficult to buy clothes, and etc., etc., etc.
And then her eyes grow wide and she says, "But you're FIVE FEET TALL!" and I scream and I hug her and I say, "WHAT?!?!?" and she squints her eyes and looks again and says, "Oh, wait, no, you're 4'11" and I collapse on the floor in a heap of tears.
And THEN, after THAT hot mess, the doctor comes in, tells me I have pink eye, and prescribes me antibiotic OINTMENT (what happened to drops???) and sends me home. And then I wear my glasses for two more days and bump into random things because I still can't get used to the depth perception differences and then the pink eye clears up and I go back to contacts and re-shave my legs and PHEW, I'm glad that's over with.