My eyeballs are broken. They simply refuse to work without my strong, stupidly obnoxious glasses that seemed like such a fantastic idea at the time of purchase. This affliction is definitely not aided by reading thousands and thousands of tiny pixelated words upon various screens every single day. Usually in the dark. Always when I’m exhausted and forget to wear said glasses. Obvs.
This results in a mighty ball of pain and misery radiating somewhere in my skull behind my right eye.
Whilst attending a blog conference last November, I did what any self respecting Essex girl would do on her first day out sans-child in six months and ended up violently vomming in the loos by the end of the day. Not due to the jolly cocktails expertly shaken by somewhat terrified looking twenty-something men dressed as lifeguards faced with a room full 200 women, heady from the fumes of free booze, freedom and being within close proximity to Richard Bacon.
More to do with staring at a bloody massive projector screen all day, so luminous it was bordering the realms of neon, reading tweets by people I was sitting in a room with. Of course I forgot to take my glasses with me. I tried not to look, honestly I did. I found myself intensely squinting at the panel on the stage, trying to look deep in thought, but my eyes kept being pulled back to the fucking massive glowing elephant in the room and it was Poltergeist all over again. Once I went towards the light all that could bring me back was evacuating my stomach contents and leaning my head against the cool, cubicle partition walls for half an hour.
This seeing thing is right high maintenance, innit?
First you’ve got to have a tracking device on the things at all times, or else they end up in the bread bin or in Alvin and the Chipmunks – The Squeakquel DVD case. Next, you need to duct tape them to your face. And then, you need to clean them. A lot.
Suffice to say, I don’t do any of this. The glasses get re-homed to the bread bin by evil, prankster pixies for weeks at a time. And when I do find them, they’re so filthy I’m worse off than I was without them.
The past week has whispered past me in a blur of punch-drunk, medicated vacancy. I’m floating through everything in a state of nightmarish dreamyness, nothing seemingly real. When I’m desperately trying to concentrate on anything for longer than two minutes, whether I want it to or not, my head just keeps floating along. It’s a bit inconvenient tbh.
And during yet another spell of the headache of doom yesterday, I aggressively polished my glasses on my sleeve, expecting them to be a smeary mess when I stuck them on my head and hurriedly left to pick up the Bean from school without giving them another thought.
As I walked, there was a moment. A brief spell of clarity, the sun came out from behind the blackout blind of thick cloud and suddenly I was thrown into a Hi-Def world and it was fucking amazing for the five minutes it lasted. I mean, yeah, the ground was still sodden from the unrelenting rain and all I could smell was fox piss, but I could see, and I felt like I was actually here for five minutes.
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