I have an eye appointment today at 10:50 and, for some reason, I really don't want to go. I will go, of course, I just don't want to.
I have a general dislike of any sort of doctor's visit. Mostly, the dentist; second, M.D.s; third, shrinks; and lastly, though not nearly as much, eye doctors.
It's not that I distrust doctors. I think it's because I'm basically a hypochondriac and I don't like having any concerns realized.
Maybe it boils down to a fear of getting older. My eyes have been perfect for years, which is odd, considering I'm the only person in my entire family (immediate and extended) who didn't need glasses at 12 years old. The last time I went, somewhere around May of last year (I remember because my appointment a year later was during finals and I kept having to reschedule around my exams and finally just postponed it till now), I needed reading glasses. Mostly because I'd been working at the publishing company, squinting at a monitor for a year and a half.
I feel like my eyesight is better now. I don't spend all day in front of a computer, but I do read a lot. I notice my eyes crossing on me occasionally, but it doesn't seem as bad. Maybe I was just putting too much strain on them at my last job.
I'm proud of my farsightedness. I can see road signs from hundreds of yards away.
We had a mini-Christmas last night. Cavan gave Charlie a bunch of comic books, and he gave me the first two Harry Potter movies. He'd gotten me the third for my birthday, so he wanted to complete the set. I put a lump of coal in his stocking (along with some really good cocoa since he loves, loves, loves hot cocoa every morning). I also got him “The Order of the Phoenix,” which I haven't given him yet (because it hasn't arrived!), and last night he got to open my favorite gift for him. I send a photo of him playing with Alvy in the leaves this past fall to a Kodak company and had it made into a puzzle. His parents had given him a 1,000-piece puzzle a couple of months that ago that he spent days putting together in the dining room. Since he loves our doggie so much, I figured it would be a nice gift. He seemed to like it.
Of course, as a girl, what you want when someone opens a gift you've really thought through, is to see them bawling with happiness at how genuinely thoughtful and wonderful a gift-giver you really are. This isn't quite the way it works out.
He seemed to like it, though.
I know there was something else I made him open a few days ago, but for the life of me, I cannot remember what it is right now. Is that bad?