The all-seeing Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has been having trouble seeing. Not all the time, and not just due to the worst pair of glasses she has ever paid money for and gone back 11 times to have corrected. No, this is an intermittent problem, most often occurring in the morning hours after she wakes. And sometimes in the evening when she still has 10 hours of prime awake time before bed.
The other day, on the way to Newmentia, I even broached the subject with The Pony. I knew he was listening, because I had picked him up a Hardee's sausage biscuit to eat on the way. He can't text or type when he's eating a sausage biscuit. Too much grease on his fingers.
"I think I have a slight case of pinkeye. When I get up in the morning, I can't see unless I rub my eyelid, or roll my eye around. It's like there's a film or something in front of my pupil. I think your dad has given it to me, with that breather blowing his germs over onto my side of the bed and that eye's side of my head while I sleep. It doesn't hurt, but I have to keep blinking it, and it itches, and it has some crusty gunk on the eyelashes at the outside corner of my eye."
"You realize I'm eating back here, right?"
"Yes. But you'll soon stop. One way or the other."
Yeah. One more incentive for The Pony to get his driver's license and transport himself to his summer tutoring assignment.
2 comments:
Why didn't you talk about your crusty eyes, rub and dig into them (making sure The Pony saw you) and then unwrap the biscuit-whateve for him?
Sometimes it takes more than a nudge. Sometimes it takes a hard shove.
Sioux,
OH! Why didn't I think of that? My thought processes, like my crusty eyes, must have been clouded for the moment.
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