I made myself an appointment at the optometrist the other day because it’s that time of the year when I need to order more contact lenses. I usually get my prescription checked and then buy a year’s worth of lenses hoping that I won’t suddenly become more blind over the next twelve months (considering my blatant lack of releases, I don’t think there’s even a *remote* possibility of that happening anytime soon.)
The more you buy, the cheaper they are and thanks to the performance of the aussie dollar, contacts from the US are looking particularly cheap at the moment so for the sum of $150 including express postage, I can buy 48 little pieces of silicon hydrogel to insert over my eyeballs. Yay for the global financial crisis!
While I was at the optometrist, he informed me that I have a slight infection in my….wait for it…
WTF??? Trust me to get something funky in some stoopid place.
Apparently oil from the eyelashes builds up and harbours bacteria, causing stinging and swelling. If you don’t take care of it, wearing contacts becomes a bit of a no-no, so I enquired avidly about what I can do about it. So several times a day for the past week, I’ve been washing my eyelashes with baby shampoo. I don’t know what it is with baby products like wipes, shampoo & powder, but they’ve all got that particularly soapy ‘baby smell’. Every time I wash my eyes with my ‘no tears’ shampoo, I can’t help thinking I smell just like a baby’s butt.
I dragged Master along to the optometrist with me because he’s a boy and won’t see any sort of medical professional except under extreme duress. I had been telling him to get his eyes tested for months because I had noticed him having problems, but of course he never did, so eventually I just made an appointment for him after mine and told him to show up. It didn’t take long to ascertain that his prescription has taken a nose-dive and he is in need of a drastically new pair of glasses. Pretty much this means that he has been driving with the force for quite some time now. All I can say is that he still drives much better with the force than I can with 20/20 vision.The force in him, strong it is.
I’ve got me a birthday caning session coming up sometime over the weekend. I’m not sure whether it’s going to be 33 strokes or some dastardly calculation of one year=ten strokes or even just a mind-fuck with no caning actually taking place. It used to bother me no end when he’d say he would do something and not do it, but now I’m grateful for small blessings. I’ve also learned that just because he chooses not to do something, doesn’t mean he’s not interested/he’s going vanilla/ he doesn’t love me anymore. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t and that’s also his right as my owner.
I wonder if his lack of vision was his excuse for not beating me on that fleshy part of the butt where there aren’t bones and other ouchie things? I seriously though that my enormous butt would have been easy enough to hit, but perhaps I needed to mark off the area with a big red marker to give him a more visible target zone to aim for 😉