Tony was just here for a week on a languid “vacation”, semi-officially off work after his product shipped and Microsoft turned a winking eye on the staff. Good work! Yeah, you, uh, should, you know, “work from home” this week, everyone, yeah. You know? We were slothful, staying up until four every night and indolently waking up at noon every day, something I haven’t done in years. I was concerned such a state of affairs might drive me batty, my itch to accomplish scouring my skin, but instead it was oddly refreshing. We were lazy and lovely and cuddly and snuggly and warm, and Dominique called me sappy, and I thought, how wonderful that sap has replaced my blood. I felt a bit like a battery being recharged, like my inactive down time would pay off in a burst of focus.
And, so far, it has.
When I put up my to-do list, Tony stepped in and offered to fund a “Jhayne Diagnostic Test” for my birthday. Kicking the tires, he called it, to see if I’m alright. Making sure I can see him, making sure I’m smart enough, and eventually, that I’ll be able to drive him around. Can’t have a girlfriend that isn’t up to par, he said, and smirked, and if he had been sitting beside me, I would have bashed him with a pillow. He was in Seattle, though, so instead I shook my fist.
So this week we found a place on-line that sells lingerie for more full bodied ladies, BreakoutBras, and snagged a batch of Harlequins that were on sale, and on Saturday I went to Image Optical, an optometrist who offers a free pair of glasses with every eye exam, which includes a contact lens exam/fitting, got my prescription updated, and picked out some frames. (Not that my glasses will be free. My vision is terrible and to purchase lenses that will not warp space and time costs a significant chunk extra. The blind tax, I call it. Unavoidable. Only $140 in this case, though, half of what more places expect.)
Today I go downtown for an appointment with the tax office to request my employment slips of the past ten years, then head over to the optometrist, credit card the glasses, (my mother is going halvers with me), and have my eyes measured for contact lenses. My eyes have apparently stabilized in the last few years, not entirely, but the prescription is no longer a bizarre, finicky one that requires custom attention, so the lenses are fairly basic, and the glasses will be finished and ready for pick-up tomorrow. Once that’s accomplished, and I can see without fog again, I’m going to march right over to the ICBC Driver’s Center and take my written Learner’s test.
The ball is rolling, ladies and gentleman. The gloves are off.