An Eye for Style

It has finally begun to get chilly here in Atlanta. That means I had to dig out the sweaters and jackets from the back of my closet. I finally got them all arranged, and with a shiver, reached for my favorite warm cardigan. My method of getting things off the hanger happens to be just tugging on the item and have it fling itself haphazardly into my hands. Never have I actually taken the hanger off the rod, removed the item, and then put the empty hanger back. My method removes two of these needless steps. And I am all about efficiency.


So I tugged on the sweater. It didn't come off on the first pull. I tugged harder this time. Nope. One last go, quite forcefully this time. That worked. It comes flying off...along with the hanger ...that just happens to hurl itself into my OPEN right eye.


Immediately, I clutch what I am certain is now just an empty socket. With my "good" eye I scan the closet floor. I don't see my eyeball... so I start trying to decipher if, even though it is still in place, would my eye actually be of any use anymore. I ran to the mirror, and for the nanosecond that I could open my eye, I confirmed that, yes, it was there, and equally importantly, I could see from it. But it watered, and watered, and watered. And hurt. HURT. I couldn't even open it without using my hands to pry the lid open for a good while.

I never like going to the doctor. Any doctor. I would have to have a severed arm or, well, be pregnant again to go to the doctor. But I was so concerned about my eye I even considered making an optometrist appointment.

I have always had perfect vision. I'm not kidding ya'll...my eyes are good. There was a time in high school when I really really wanted glasses, though. So I convinced my mom to make me an eye doctor appointment telling her I was having trouble seeing. I wasn't. I just wanted some glasses for an accessory. I didn't get glasses. And my perfect vision is just one reason I haven't been back for a check-up since. When I was there, after I got the drops to dilate your eyes (although I didn't know what they were for at the time), sitting there reading my little magazine...and everything starts to go blurry. I thought I was having a reaction to the drops. Thought I was going blind. What tragic irony. Blind from the drops at the eye doctor. I'm very dramatic. But, ya think someone could have told me I might experience a bit of blurriness. Scared me to death.


So I decided to wait it out and figured if worse comes to worst I could rock a patch and be a pirate for Halloween...and the entire week before. But after a couple days it finally feels back to normal. Thanks for asking.


When I was telling Leo that night about what I had done to myself he jokingly asked if I had learned my lesson (about the way I rip things off hangers).



Yeah, I learned a lesson.

Heavy sweaters now go in drawers.