I think I’m dying. More accurately, I think I am being murdered. By pollen. I have such a strange, heady feeling; much akin to what I think it would feel like to drink that fizzy pop in the original Willy Wonka and rise up into the ceiling. You know, when Charlie and Grandpa Joe almost get sucked into the big fan and they figure out you have to burp to come back to the ground. You know? I feel like that. But in my head. And without burping.
A lot of this heady feeling might have to do with the fact that I have no depth perception. How? I am a fool of a Took and I threw out my old contacts without realizing I only had a left contact and no right. So I’ve been splitting my time between wearing one contact and wearing my glasses. The problem with one contact is that I end up walking around like either a stroke victim or a salty old sea dog. The problem with my glasses is that I just don’t see as well and they end up giving me a headache. I’m not sure if it’s from the adjustment in seeing or if it’s from the weight of them on my head (my vision is very bad), but when they go, my headache goes.
So if you see me on campus this week and I don’t acknowledge you, it’s because I’m walking around in a pollen-induced haze with fluid in my ears and only one good eye. Don’t take it personally, I can barely see myself.
My eye appointment is on Saturday, so I’ll get a trial pair from the doctor until my year’s supply of contacts arrives. I can hardly wait to do simple things like, oh, you know, see. It’ll help me accomplish things. My friend C suggested I get an eyepatch. I’m seriously considering it. I love eyepatches.
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me,