I certainly am not. I'd planned to post something at least once during the weekend, and didn't, but I've decided not to be overly fussed about it. I'm starting the week with a bit of an update to make up for it.
The — we interrupt this Monday morning post with a Monday evening update. Because I stopped writing the post on my own laptop, and got up to walk to my office to start work on my work laptop, figuring I'd take a moment out to complete the post later. Time to work, thought I.
And then my glasses broke, from high atop my nose. The metal frame broke, to be precise. Now I had planned to go to get a new prescription next week, because it has been ... ahem ... eight to 10 years since I got this prescription and this pair of glasses. But life has a habit of kicking me into doing things Right This Fucking Minute by virtue of such little divertissements.
Nope, the old glasses couldn't be soldered; the lenses wouldn't fit into them if it was possible. And, nope, I had only one other pair of glasses. 15-17 years old. Because the ones that were actually only 12 or so years old ... broke when I went to put them on. In the same place on the metal frame that my current ones broke. And neither could be taped together, either.
I can't do my job without my glasses, because I don't have nearly as much vision without them. I called my boss, told him I was off to find a same-day optometry and eyeglass making place. Got the place all right, and thanked my lucky stars that the very last of my Mum's last gift would pay for what would probably be about $700 in glasses.
But they couldn't make my glasses the same day. Nor in one day, nor in two. Possibly in three, more likely in five. Because bad eyes w/astigmatic curves and far-sightedness and other assorted ocular evil.
They were able to make me a set of "just look straight ahead at the computer" temporaries, with which I am typing now. But I shouldn't be, because my head is aching and my vision is less than happy with me.
But I did want to tell you about why I didn't post my thoughts on Moffat and his Mysteries, or about the great dinner my First Born cooked for me. Reasons, you see. Reasons.
*Goes off to bed, to rest her tired and maltreated eyes*
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