Keep Calm and Carry On

It feels weird.

I put my contact lenses in today for the first time in months. I'd stopped wearing them after I went through hell with my sapphire blue coloured ones one evening when I was out clubbing.

These were just the plain ones, but it felt strange wearing them all day.

Why bother? I hear you cry. Well - it seems to be getting brighter and I just bought some sunglasses. And much as I enjoy the blurring when I'm not wearing my glasses, on the whole - I prefer crisp vision. So to wear my sunglasses, I need to wear lenses.

On the the whole, though, I think my sunglasses have been the Kiss of Death for the weather. It's somewhat overcast. Sorry, everyone.

Glasses are obviously almost as effective as cleaning the barbecue for destroying the the good weather.

On a completely different tack - I got an appointment for my operation through from the hospital. And it's only two months away! The specialist told me I could expect a wait of up to 2 years on the NHS.

Clearly, they've realised how important I am and bumped a peon.

Slight problem - with this operation, I need to be picked up from the hospital and supervised for 24 hours afterwards (for some reason, I also have to have someone on hand when I pee. I don't like to ask why). However - the appointment is the day after my parent's 30th wedding anniversary, so they are going to be in Paris.

What am I to do? The immediate thought was to ask my brother.

Good plan, Dral. Well done.

Except he's an arsehole and ummed and ahhed about his availability. For someone who constantly harps on about how important family is, it's surprising how often it's only important when he gains from it.

So now I'm going to have to get one of my friends to come and nursemaid me.

Not that I want any of my friends to see me that vulnerable.

Ooooh! Sudden though occurs, though. Anyone want to come and help me shave my crotch the morning of the operation?