This morning, I awoke to a special treat in the form of a corneal abrasion. Which is a fancy way of saying that at some point during my drunken slumber, I scratched my own eye.
If it did not hurt so goddamned much, I might actually be impressed. The logistics are quite astounding. I somehow managed to fully open my eye mid-dream, then proceeded to touch it without blinking. All the while remaining completely asleep.
Excuse me while I add that to my list of useful talents.
After I could keep both eyes open long enough to figure out which one of the toilets I was seeing was real, I made the long and terrifying journey to work. People were likely confused as to why a disheveled woman with no make-up was clearly drunk driving at nine in the morning.
By the grace of God, I arrived safely. Just in time to look in the mirror and see the Bride of Frankenstein staring back at me in double.
I spent the better half of the morning Googling variations of “sexy eyepatch.”
I did go to the doctor, and a patch won’t be necessary, so my efforts were wasted. Which is sad, because I was kind of looking forward to a new accessory. If I can’t bring the pirate hooker look back in style, no one can.
My abrasion and I look forward to a peaceful evening of baking and eye drops.
As a side note: This will really teach me not to make jokes about blind people in my blog anymore.