I wake up most mornings with eyes full of delicious night-crusties, but today was different. “Your eye is swollen,” says Mom (which makes me think Wow, I’d be a horrible mother because I just looked in the mirror and I didn’t catch that but oh yeah, I also didn’t have my glasses on). “Is it a stye?” I ask. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a stye,” she says. Well, me neither. “How about pinkeye?” I ask again. “Beats me, I’ve never had pinkeye,” she responds.
So off to the Internets we merrily go, browsing many not-quite-informative articles and many heinously-disgusting pictorials. The verdict? Beats the hell out of us. Almost 100% sure it’s not pinkeye, but I’m taking no chances. My hands are so dehydrated from thorough washing and hand sanitizer usage that it feels like my skin shrunk.
I was also scheduled to visit my peeps down in T-Town for a few days, starting, oh – right now. But out of common courtesy, and fear that my eye might suddenly emulsify and drip down my face somewhere over Arkansas, I moved my flight to tomorrow morning. The goal is, by tonight, this eye thing to either a) be cleared up or b) more clearly communicate what the hell is going on.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go wash my hands some more.