You may recall that last May I had my eyes lasered into occular perfection. It was a great experience, and the left side of my life has been radically changed for the better.

The right side, however, has been driving me batty. The vision in my left eye is so amazing and cyborgy that anything less than perfect is very noticable. And irritating. And must be fixed.

So off I went this morning to the eye doctor to have him puzzle out what can be done to fix the situation. Turns out that I still have some astigmatism left, so on Wednesday afternoon I'll have my right eye done again. I'm glad to hear that they can probably make it better, but I'm not really looking forward to doing the whole thing again. But whatever, there are a million worse problems to have.

So then I went to work. Looking like this:

Dilated eye: do not want.

If you're reading this it means I'm over at the eye doctor (also known as The Sick Fuck* who makes references to A Clockwork Orange as he has you sedated and is taping open your eye in preparation for doing a little work on it) getting good-old Left Eye whipped into shape.

I'll be honest with you. There was a little "discomfort" a few days after I had the right eye done a month ago, but it really wasn't a big deal. What is a big deal? Having blurry vision for what feels like forever. Yes, yes, I know things could always be worse (bite.my.ass.), but it is kind of a drag.

Especially when I spend so much of my time, you know, on the computer. Typing words. Words that I like to be able to see and possibly spell approximately correctly. I mean I don't get all manic about it, but typos do bug me.

Anyway. If you've wondered why I've been cranky and kind of slacking lately this is why. It is definitely frustrating not to be able to see exactly what I'm doing. And if you know me you'll know that I'm not really an "approximately" kind of person. So.

So I thank all of you who are suffering through my typos — although none of you assholes mentioned that I got the DATE on Tuesday's GRIT post wrong — and double thank you to the people who have so graciously offered their services as guest posters. I'll be taking more advantage of that over the next few days while getting used to the new look of the world through surgically polished eyeballs.

Ah, technology.

(* Edit: That sure came out wrong! I meant it jokingly but I think I missed the mark. He's actually a funny guy who really did talk about that creepy movie, but it made me laugh and relaxed me at the time.)

Here's the weirdest symptom I have after the laser eye surgery: no desire to read blogs or to post! Good lord, that should have been noted somewhere in all the papers I signed.

I only hopped online this morning to see if Mrs. Flinger and baby are out of the NICU and home. The answer is yes — fantastic!!! — but I'm putting the laptop away now.

I just want to be in a dark room with my sunglasses on. So I'm still here, I've just become a hermit. Go share Mrs. F's happy day, and I'll be back later.

Seriously. No joke. The smell of eyeball is foul.

And the Valium they gave me ahead of time? Lame. Nothing. It didn't "take the edge off," I've just been unable to stop yawning for the past 5 hours.

And lying in the surgi-recliner waiting for someone who you know is going to blast your eye with a freaking laser? Weird as hell and slightly creepy.

The doctor bringing up "A Clockwork Orange" while he tapes my eye open? Hilarious.

Apparently today I will feel fine (true so far), tomorrow I will feel some "discomfort," and Saturday it will hurt like a motherfucker.

At least I have my lolcats (and friends like Karrie and Jean who send me things like this that make me laugh more than humans really should). And the complimentary goody bag containing, eye drops, sun glasses, and instructions.

Oh, and Valium and Vicodin.

I've set this post to go up at my eyeball laser appointment time, so as you read this just imagine my right eyeball being bathed in lasery goodness.

But no matter how bizarre the experience turns out to be, I am just incredibly thankful that the procedure will not be done by this goober:

I'll keep you posted. (I'm so punny!)