Off the Cuff / My Other Journal

I am worse than Paris Hilton!

No kidding!

I am worse than you know who, for I am going to throw a tantrum and rant in my old age. Paris Hilton cried her eyes out, not to face jail time. I am mad because my eyes are keeping me out of WC.

A few days ago, I had an eye surgery. I thought I would be perfectly okay, give and take a couple of days. Those who went through the same stuff (my husband and my cousin) chirped about their splendid sight right after their patch was removed: “I see so much better!”

Well, I don’t. I see so much worse.

I told the doctor to do something so I can at least go online. “For some, it takes longer,” he said like a frozen fish filet.

“I need to be on a certain site,” I begged.

He asked, “Which site?”

I answered, “Writing.com.”

He looked at me like I pulled a kangaroo out of a hat. “Oh, that… find something else to do.”

“You don’t understand. That is my oxygen,” I murmured.

“I can see how it can be important for some,” he said absentmindedly, pushing my chin onto the chin plate. “All the way over. Rest your forehead here, all the way up.”

As he shone a cobalt blue light into my eye, he murmured. “Some like online sites. I really cannot find time for such (pause) things.”

Afraid a four letter word that wouldn't be "love" or something like it could escape my lips, I shut up, replacing the pause in his last phrase with “frivolous.” Although he didn’t say it, now I am fuming at what he might have said, on top of the frustration over my wayward right eye.

The expression on my face must have threatened him, because he allowed me half an hour to an hour computer time and put hubby in the sentry shack.

Unfortunately, when this eye heals, I’ll have to go through the same thing with the left eye, and I can’t help remembering Shakespeare: “Kill all the lawyers!”

Today, I can replace “lawyers” with another profession easily.

I wonder how Paris Hilton got that sheriff to break out of jail.

I might need a sheriff after all this or the sheriff might come after me for replacing the profession Shakespeare named (ahem!) with another certain one.