Thursday: Appointments (life)

For St. Patrick's day, I ate a boiled potatoes with grey, phallic looking sausages. They call it coddle. Who knew.

In an hour I have an eye appointment, meaning I get to leave cubeland-flourescent0-fun-zone early to have my eyes dilated and look like a crazy person. I think my exuberance is radiating from my cube and my co-workers too want to cry yellow tears. Or perhaps they just want to leave early. Maybe the optometrist will try to convince me to wear contact lenses for the ninth time. Who knows. The future is nebulous.

Consider that maybe you need to start letting go. After five years of saying you have an "important reading test" immediately after your eye appointment, perhaps they have finally caught on and know you hate having your eyes dilated. Maybe it's not as bad as you remember. Think of this akin to a situation from your childhood. Remember when you made it through your first doctor appointment without crying and you got a Beauty and the Beast sleeping bag? Or the first dentist appointment you behaved well at and you got bright blue and neon green Rollerblades? This will be just like that. Except now you have to suck it up alone and buy your own reward.