I have ten minutes to type this morning because I have to scoot to work because OH MY WORD am I behind after spending the last three weeks at home playing Florence Nightingale to two kids with pneumonia.
I was pleased to see that my keycard worked when I swiped it at the campus gate yesterday.
I was also really pleased to see that I still had a shoebox where my trashcan used to live.
On the agenda for the day is a trip to the the eye doctor because I can’t see diddly squat when I try to read and, yes, I need bifocals. Actually, I already have bifocal contacts but they haven’t worked well for a year but did I go in and have the problem corrected? No, I have spent a year squinting and holding the book at arm’s length or alternatively taking out my contacts and holding reading material six inches from my nose.
My mother is shaking her head right now. Yes, she taught me better. In my defense, I’ve been a little busy.
So it ought to be fun to sit up close and personal with the eye doctor and letting him see the pores in my face that are big enough to sink a battleship and hopefully I’ll have some news to report tomorrow.
Oh, look, my time for today is up and I haven’t said anything of real consequence.
Not that it’s different from any other day of the week.
Gotta’ scoot and deal with the crazy people. Anything (in)consequential about your life today?
Have a nice day.