• A weird little sunburn on the sides of my feet where I didn’t put enough sunscreen.
• A four-pack of Muscle Milk (the newest, trendiest and probably ultimately just as worthless weightlifting supplement, though it’s quite tasty).
• A sore, achy body courtesy of some killer workouts with Keith.
• An expired one-day Disney pass for my scrapbook.
• One completed Da Vinci Code and one half-completed American Gothic: A Life of America's Most Famous Painting.
• Stray granules of sand in my dirty laundry.
• A painful eye infection.*
*This is technically misleading on two fronts: 1) I left for Orlando on Thursday with the infection already in place, but I thought my pink, puffy eye was just a byproduct of the headache that had been throbbing above it all day. It turns out the headache was probably a result of the infection. 2) It’s not even an infection. After visiting two doctors today (my internist, who wasn’t sure what the hell was wrong with me, and an ophthalmologist, who is more fun to spell than to visit) I have learned that I am suffering from a horrible, disfiguring, turn-sunlight-into-lasers-of-pain case of Really Dry Eye.
That’s right. After five days of irritating pain, two copays and three hours of missed work, I’ve learned I’m suddenly incapable of producing adequate eye moisture. And that I kind of whimper when the ophthalmologist (there’s that fun word again!) does an eye exam involving bright lights and little sensors that actually touch my eyeballs.
But it’s nothing serious. And I get pretty fast relief just by putting expensive over-the-counter drops in my eyes as often as I feel pain. Which is every freakin’ minute of the day.
And now I have no vacations planned until July, when I’ll head home to Iowa for (twitch!) my (gag! ack!) 20th high school reunion. Which should fill my eyes with enough tears that I’ll save a bundle on drops.