No blogging done, at least not by way of writing my own, since August 2013. The Dolly House took over, and then my annual episode of SAD shortened my waking time by two or three hours a day, then there was Christmas, and then visitors and visiting. But today I thought, oh go ON write one, so I shall.
I have been
awake, up and about, with weary smeary bleary blurry eyes, but awake since 10.30am! The Husband and I both have sight test and eye examination this afternoon. The ophthalmologist is
likely to take two steps backwards and exclaim Mrs Bulmer, how have you been getting
around without being covered in bruises from bumping into furniture?
and hand me a white stick. Either that or he will pop out my eyeballs, sigh heavily, give them a good polish with a lint-free cloth, and then fit them back in.
Mild exaggeration, but I expect tutting. Last sight test I can remember was December 2005.
There may have been one since, but I didn't have any new specs made
up, and I rarely wear the distance ones I had made in 2005, and only use
off-the-peg readers for music and the instructions on packets. Use it
or lose it is my approach to my eyes...the only part of my body I
exercise apart from my vocal cords. I have about four pairs of sun glasses and even more reading specs from 1.5+ to about 2.5+in strength, so I am guessing my reading add has gone up. Otherwise, except for the mornings, my eyesight is pretty much OK.
More to the point, The Husband is being tested. As he has Type II Diabetes (controlled by diet) and a family history of glaucoma, he really needs to be checked out every couple of years without fail. And because I am the female spouse it is rather down to me to arrange it, as I am in charge of the calendar and pretty much everything that goes in it. T'was ever thus when a couple marries, no?
The Husband calls me the Social Secretary, when he is not referring to me as the War Office.
And yet, I let him live...