In the continuing saga of my sudden and new-found medical sense, I went to the eye doctor today. It's been a long time coming, really. Basically,I hadn't had my eyes checked in a good three or four years. I finally learned why my eyes get so blasted tired by half-way through the day, too. Thanks to a delightful astigmatism in my right eye, I can compensate for my near-sightedness to get about 20/25 vision. The only problem is that this constant work fatigues the fuck out of my eyes. Hence why I frequently feel the need to nap before I even make it to lunch. The visit itself was none too glamourous. It wasn't bad, really, just exhausting. You know. First, you have some god-awful eye drops put in, which stained some part of your eyes yellow. As if yellow isn't unattractive enough a color to use, the drops dry your eyes out a lot. And then you have to suffer through that big machine they make you put your face up to, and then they shine insanely bright light into your eye to check out all those rods and cones and stuff. As an added bonus, the yellow drops are supposed to deaden the sensitivity (to touch, I think) in your eye, so they can poke your eye and then laugh at you when you scream.

Next up was the test with the giant owl-looking lens shifter thingie. Followed by still more eye drops to dilate your pupils. Then they're like, "Okay, go sit down in the waiting room again." Which you do, and you realize for the first time exactly why those rooms all have such soft lighting. But that soft lighting gets progressively brighter, and then everything gets really fuzzy. Good luck trying to read anything. I tried to read the Russell logo on my shirt and all I saw was a big white blob.

Finally, they take you back once again, so that the Opthamologist can bombard you with a final series of obnoxious tests. Back to the little room with the uncomfortable chair and the mirrors with corresponding projectors for the little eye tests. Back to the horrible lights flashing in your eyes. Only this time you're sure you're going to be blinded by the damn things. And when your eye instinctively slams shut to keep this from happening, your eye doctor reaches over and grabs your eyelid and holds it open himself. The bastard.

Fortunately, once it's all over, you get to hit the optical store and find yourself a nice pair of glasses. At least the visit ends on a good note. You get to look at all sorts of fabulous frames that are way out of your budget, but which you want to buy anyway, and settle for dreaming about one day being able to own such stylin' specs.

You find some nice ones, and spring for them. Then you wait for a few weeks to get them, and your life can start anew with new and improved vision.

My eyes are back to their normal state again, finally. I'm less out of sorts in that regard than I was when I first got home. But then I opened the refrigerator and discovered that the light inside it burned out. I tested the little lever that turns it on and off. Nothing. I tried unscrewing it and then screwing it back in again. Nothing. Everything is still cold, and my refrigerator is otherwise fine. But not having a light on inside it is a devastating blow. I'm so lost without it, I can't even begin to describe how I feel about it.