The title of this post is both literal and metaphorical.
I’ve been a slacker for the last couple of weeks. For all the high-falutin’, superior, blogging-every day shit, I fall prostrate and humble before my distinguished readers. I got busy. I was doing a show. All I could do each day as far as writing was a morning brain-dump, and nothing else coherent or interesting was to be had. But I’m getting back on the wagon now, and that’s the inportant thing.
So –clear vision number one: you can have good intentions, and good ideas, and sometimes, it’s just not time to express them. That’s OK. Nobody really cares. This is also true: anything I have to expresss will either keep for another day, or another week, or another month. Sharing and expressing are important — and I’ll go with an active mind that is percolating, perhaps not ready to share, any day.
The literal: I have been dealing with a big ol’ thick granddaddy cataract in my right eye for over a year. Yep, I suspected it. A visit to my optometrist, and her assistant’s “WTF?” response to my screening confirmed it. It has taken me awhile to get my life and finances organized — and so, after months of steady deterioration of my vision, and palpable anxiety in social situations ([‘m not rude — I can’t see who you are!), I’m getting it fixed.
March 17 is the date for my Inter-Ocular Lens Implant. If you are about to undergo the same procedure, or contemplating it, DO NOT watch any YouTube videos about it in an attempt to do due diligence and be an informed patient. I got 5 seconds into one video, freaked out, and realized I had made a serious mistake. I like and respect my doctor, I like the story they have told me, and that is good enough.
A couple of days after the operation, I expect to be listening to “I Can See Clearly Now, The Rain Is Gone,” singing and dancing around like a fool. I’ll be writing a lot more when I can see the computer screen without doing all sorts of ergonomic tricks to get close enough and get the print large enough and clear enough, without huncing my entire body. And then, look out.
Expect a torrent. When I can see, I will SEE.