I am blind. Well, that's an exaggeration, but seriously, if I don't have some kind of corrective lense in front of my Precious Moment-like eyeballs, I tend to run into things and say "Excuse me" to inanimate objects.
Confession: I say "Excuse me" to inanimate objects even when I'm wearing contacts or glasses. Because I'm polite that way.
Anyway, I had my vision tested this morning, and my slide into darkness continues. -6.5 in each eye! I feel like I should recieve an award for that. Anyway, my optometrist performed a glaucoma test as well, and seriously, I think there is no stranger sensation then having the nerves in your eyeballs deadened by eyedrops. I could feel the insides of my eyelids sliding across them. It was fucking insane, and a little awesome.
The frames for my new glasses? Why, yes, I did get new frames. And, because I have a midget face (it goes with my midget feet, you see), I ended up buying a pair of kids frames. A picture of which I cannot find online, so a photo of me wearing the suckers will have to wait until they're in my possession.
Completely unrelated, but I bring it up because I'm currently watching
Vera Drake, which is heartbreaking and amazing and one of the best things I've seen on-film in ages, is my love for my DVR.
Kate thinks I have an unnatural relationship with it, and I have a sneaking suspicion that she's right. But, really, how can you not love something that records shows for you while you sleep and have forgotten that you told it to tape?