I’ve been doing penance for 5 days in the form of audiobooks and podcasts. And then you have the antibiotics, opthalmic steroids, oral and opthalmic narcotics, anesthetizing drops, regular drops, and cookies.They’re peanut butter-heath-white-chocolate-oatmeal raisin if anyone’s interested—in the peanut butter chips I’ve spat, left carelessly and craptastically on my plate of plates of all things sweet and of which I’m sure I’ve gained a stone more than I’ve intended since the surgery.
I don’t know why I write like a book of fiction reads, but I take it as a result of technological restraint. See: Absolution of cell phones and computers, video games and television, ebooks (and books) and handheld dollar-store disposable sudoku games. Single use only. So that is why I read like fiction. Gone Girl was interesting anyway. My attention to listening hasn’t been on par as of late—and by late I mean like, ever. lol. So I find myself constantly switching genres and accents, modes of narration that might possibly keep me intrigued for more than one hour at a time. They don’t. I suck. You suck. Yay.
I’ve been meaning to write a more thoughtful analysis of Gone Girl, or a more in-depth informative look on my PRK surgery/the healing process, but I digress from a lack of any variety of stimulation aside from voices coming from my computer connected via discarded 1st-gen ipod earphones. Also, my eyes have a short shelf life, and I’m left straining for the rest of these words, so I shall recoup for tomorrow’s attempt at Day 5.
All in all, the surgery went well, but I think I’ll still need a few more days to get them back to at least *robotic voice* op-err-a-bul con-dee-shuns. lolz.