Pink Eye

I woke up this morning and discovered that my right eye had been welded shut. I initially suspected ninjas, but then realized they were all still on vacation (Australia, some sort of ‘poison tour’). I eventually figured out that my eyelid was not welded, but merely encrusted by a good ½ inch of goop (which may or may not be better).

So, after prying my eye open, I discovered that the actual eyeball resembled . . . err . . . something really red. Honestly, I can’t think of an appropriately funny metaphor.

Thinking, thinking, thinking . . .

Wait! The Eye of Sauron! Yes. I discovered my eyeball resembled the Eye of Sauron, as it was all flame-y and I had a weird desire to kill hobbits (more so than usual, at least) and could control orcs. Yeah.

Anyway, I ended up going to work. I realize this was bad, but I honestly didn’t clue in that it might be Pink Eye ‘till about noon, at which point it was a bit too late. You see, my brain doesn’t really start to function until about 11:30, wherein ‘function’ is defined as ‘firing on at least half the available cylinders.’ This is why I avoid actual human contact until about that time, as I end up agreeing to help people move, buying insurance, and clicking on pop-ups.

I do wonder where it came from though. I mean, I always wash my hands after handling eyeballs and I haven’t had any direct eyeball-to-eyeball contact in a while. Granted, it could be some vast conspiracy consisting of the California DMV, the League of Left-Handed Elvis Impersonators, that guy at the bus stop, the elephants at the zoo, and some sand, whose sole goal was mildly inconveniencing me, but I kind of doubt it.

Then again, maybe that’s what they want me to think . . .

Cheers,
-Jason