I Can See Clearly Now
I stumbled out of bed early this morning, walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light. I could see! It must be a St. Patrick's Hooley* miracle. But wait a minute. St. Patrick is not the patron saint of nearsightedness. No, that would be St. Bauschandlomb. So if it's not a miracle then what is it? Oh big dummy, you forget to take out your contacts last night. Wonder why?
After chiseling my lenses off of my eyeballs, a process which is not easy to do with contacts that are supposed to be removed before going to bed, I looked down at my blurry hand. "That's not going to be easy to get off", I thought.
I'm thinking my memoir from yesterday's post should have read a bit differently. Perhaps this one can serve as my backup - Shouldn't have had that last beer.
And yes, that fake tattoo is still stuck to my hand, even after trying to scrub it off in the shower. Except now it looks worse.
After chiseling my lenses off of my eyeballs, a process which is not easy to do with contacts that are supposed to be removed before going to bed, I looked down at my blurry hand. "That's not going to be easy to get off", I thought.
I'm thinking my memoir from yesterday's post should have read a bit differently. Perhaps this one can serve as my backup - Shouldn't have had that last beer.
And yes, that fake tattoo is still stuck to my hand, even after trying to scrub it off in the shower. Except now it looks worse.
*Hooley - The American version of a *ceilidh, a Gaelic party with music and revelry.
Comments
I keep thinking I want a tatoo on my lower back -some sort of symbol that would have personal meaning. It's just so permanent that I'm afraid to actually do it. That sounds wimpy doesn't it?