About a week and a half ago, because they were buggin', I (finally) decided to ditch the pair of contacts I had been wearing for the past 4 months in favour of putting in my next, fresh pair.
I removed the offending lenses and proceeded to toss them into the toilet. I rummaged in the cabinet and grabbed the box of contact lenses ... only to find it empty! I just threw away my last set of contacts!!
And, to add insult to injury, I had no backup glasses either.
I must have been quite a sight, squinting, crouched over the toilet seat, reaching in to retrieve them. Thankfully, they were floating at the surface, and no serious reconnaissance needed to be done.
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The water was clean, but all the same, for one full week I wore lenses that had been all too intimately acquainted with something I'd rather they hadn't known.
Anyway, long story short, the final pair tore in my eye last weekend. Saturday, a day in which I needed to go to the office and work, I spent going to the optometrist and picking out a new pair of glasses.
Honestly, it was a welcome break from a ridiculously long work week. I feel quite sure that it was the Universe's way of telling me to slow the fuck down. Never mind the fact that on Monday morning I was in no way prepared for the week ... I was rested. I had spent a weekend relaxing and taking care of myself.
It. was. wonderful.
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