Maybe I need to change my style. It's getting all Wild Kingdom up in here. Looking back over the last couple of weeks, I've had the moth, the chicken, the spider, the possum. I might as well start a cooking blog: Val's Bizarre Hillbilly Treats. Is it a Freudian slip that I first typed "teats" in place of treats? That would be a different blog entirely.
Yesterday I had an appointment with the optometrist. I didn't take a book with me like I do at the doctor's office, because I didn't want my eyes all focusing and unfocusing just before the exam. An opto appointment is not as stressful as a doctor's appointment. There are no sick people to breathe on you, only whiny kids who commandeer the ceiling-mounted TV for cartoons that they pointedly ignore. And I was lucky enough to get a 2:30 appointment, so no whiny kids were around. Nap time, you know.
Another good thing about the opto office is the carpeting throughout. More homey instead of industrial. You know there won't be any emergency gurney-racing down the halls, or clean-up pages for various and sundry effluences that might taint the tile. Once you get back to the inner sanctum, you don't see sharp or hosey objects that may be applied to your body. Only stainless steel contraptions that twist and turn and telescope and retract, kind of like adult Transformer toys.
After checking in with picture ID and insurance cards, I sat down to wait. And wouldn't you know it? I got the urge. Don't you find that you get the urge at the most inconvenient times in the most inconvenient places? You know what I'm talking about...the urge to write. Thoughts were pinging through my noggin like spitballs through a classroom controlled by a substitute. I was generating enough material for a week's worth of posts. On both my blogs. Woe was me. I started making pictures in my mind. That's a way to remember things, I've been told. If you can't remember names, then when you're introduced to John Goodman, picture a dude sitting on a toilet with a teacher's red stamp of "Good" on his forehead.
I don't want to foreshadow what you're in for this week, but my picture was somebody peeing on Tom Cruise, who had gray roots and feet dripping with sweat.