Norrmal?

Had an ALMOST, close-to-normal-ish, sort of day yesterday. I had physical therapy and then zoomed (well, sorta zoomed. There's only so much zooming one can do in a leg brace and walker) off to Mass Eye and Ear Infirmary to finally have my, three times postponed (due to ugly recovery shit), follow up with my cornea minder, Doc Jacobs. Happily and surprisingly the old orb isn’t just doing fine. In fact, it's in more-better-than-when-she-first-saw-it shape. How da ya like them cherries, mes amis!

There’s an excellent chance that I won’t be using the Prose lens again. Warum? I never quite got the hang of putting it in without banging up my cornea (which is, now, better than fine, thank you so very much). I’m mostly OK with my left eye’s fuzzy vision from putting the erythromycin and drops in every few hours (which, in lieu of the lens protects my damn eye). Yes, a pain in the azz but, for yurs truly, it’s easier and less stressful than that giant motherfucking contact lens.

So then, a good eye day for the broad with endless body-falling-apart issues. YEA ME!

From MEEI we drove home though retched rush hour traffic (I guess everyone’s back to working in the office) and were just too beat to stop for take out tacos. Boo hiss.

So, I got outta the house, had a couple doc appointments, NO falls and had my bowl of damn-you-did-a-good-job-today ice cream. Today I rest. A lot!

Also, I’ll continue with my Iain Banks book, Consider Phlebus. I’m at an especially tense part. Will Horva survive the break up of the giant ship circling the soon to be destroyed Vavatch Orbital? What about Yalson?

I don’t give a good goddamn about the captain— Kraiklyn or his chicken hearted second—Mipp. If they’ve croaked, it means more of the crew, potentially, lives. Those two are light years less than useful.

Yeah, the book’s sucked me in. Like totally.

Everything was perfectly healthy and normal here in Denial Land.
~ Jim Butcher, Cold Days