I'm an Idiot.
Big surprise, I know. But there's a specific reason that I'm an idiot tonight.
On my dinner break, I came home and took out my contacts. I've had to wear them all day, every day for the last week and a half, and my eyes were starting to dry out (all the dust from moving offices didn't help, either). So I put on my glasses, shoved my contact case into my pocket, and headed back to work.
Right before the newscast, I put my contacts back in, and promptly forgot about the whole ordeal.
That is, until I got home. I took out my lenses, dropped them into some enzymatic cleaner, and then realized that I didn't remember to bring my glasses home from work. I've already put the contacts into the enzymatic (read: expensive) stuff, so I don't want to fish them out of the solution just so I can stay up for another hour or so. So at this point, I've committed to an evening of blindness.
Then, Eureka! I remember that I have a spare pair of glasses. I just don't know where they are. I dig around for a while, drop a ton of stuff on the floor in my blind, mole-like rummaging, and eventually Cory takes over and looks for my spare glasses for me. It took about 10 minutes, but he found them.
Too bad they're about four prescriptions old, and the lenses are so scratched up that everything looks like it's in a fog. Ah, well. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.
Big surprise, I know. But there's a specific reason that I'm an idiot tonight.
On my dinner break, I came home and took out my contacts. I've had to wear them all day, every day for the last week and a half, and my eyes were starting to dry out (all the dust from moving offices didn't help, either). So I put on my glasses, shoved my contact case into my pocket, and headed back to work.
Right before the newscast, I put my contacts back in, and promptly forgot about the whole ordeal.
That is, until I got home. I took out my lenses, dropped them into some enzymatic cleaner, and then realized that I didn't remember to bring my glasses home from work. I've already put the contacts into the enzymatic (read: expensive) stuff, so I don't want to fish them out of the solution just so I can stay up for another hour or so. So at this point, I've committed to an evening of blindness.
Then, Eureka! I remember that I have a spare pair of glasses. I just don't know where they are. I dig around for a while, drop a ton of stuff on the floor in my blind, mole-like rummaging, and eventually Cory takes over and looks for my spare glasses for me. It took about 10 minutes, but he found them.
Too bad they're about four prescriptions old, and the lenses are so scratched up that everything looks like it's in a fog. Ah, well. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.
Stumble It!
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