Me vs. contacts

One of my limited weaknesses, showing my limited humanity, has been my recent and rapid declining eyesight.  This sucks, since I am at the point now where I can’t read menus in restaurants unless the lighting is great and I work best in dimly-lit places.  I got reading glasses, but everyone knows glasses are for four-eyed nerds and I am clearly very cool and quite the badass.  Thus, my recent switch to contacts.

Whatever sick and twisted human invented these self-torture semi-orbs, I admire you for your amazing ability to get me to shove my finger into my eye to avoid spectacles, but this process is about as easy giving myself a catheter.  The lady showed me, but I couldn’t get these damn things in my eye the first 20 tries if the government in Clockwork Orange let me borrow their tools.  My eye kept moving and flinching – probably thousands of years of DNA stacked up telling not to poke myself in the eyeball.  Just a thought.  Morning one I was almost late for work.  I was so angry, I almost punched a hole in my wall, realized that wasn’t healthy, then beat my fist on my sink five times.

I’ve been told this gets easier.  I sure changing a colostomy bag does too, optimists.  Oh well, at least I don’t look like a feeb.