Reading Roadblock: The Angry Scribble In My Left Eye

 I don't know any three-year-olds right now, so I haven't been hanging out with any lately. How then can I explain the dark scrawl, the angry scribble in my left eye? The scribble on top of flyspecks on a dirty window on a cloudy day.

Here's what the ophthalmologist believes: Some of the vitreous fluid (it's like jelly, baby) in my eye broke off and is floating around. There's also some blood in the eye. Eventually, the floaters will calm down and/or my brain will learn to ignore the scribble. I can't wait. 

This really puts a crimp in my reading. Really been struggling to finish Fresh Off the Boat, but if the book were a song, my eye would be the static drowning it out. Eddie Huang, I loved your funny, savage footnotes, but not so much anymore. Can barely see them.

Audiobooking? Yeah, not so much. I listen to audiobooks in the car, and guess what? I can't see well enough to drive. 

Speaking of audiobooks, funny story. The one I was listening to (before this eye thing happened allofasudden on Sunday afternoon) was How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan. It's a historical view of LSD, magic mushrooms and the like. I was into the book so much that when my eye went wonky, I thought for a fleeting moment that I'd been so strongly influenced by my reading that I'd somehow sent myself on a trip. First cheese and now...this??? But alas, no mind-bending experience for me. Instead, it's like that Dorothy Parker anecdote in which the bartender asks her, "What are you having?" and Dorothy Parker replies, "Not much fun."

I can still watch television. Michael, Dwight, Jim, Pam, Kelly, Meredith and the rest of The Office are still hilarious through my scribbled-on eye.

I spy with my little eye the ophthalmologist again on Monday. Meanwhile, I remain blurrily, cloudily, speckly, and scribbly your Blue-Hearted Bookworm on pause.