April 14, 2010
For the past few days, my boss Laura has been calling me “Pus Eye”.
Before you go calling the authorities for Employee Mistreatment, let me note that one conversation we had today went something like this:
Laura: I wish I didn’t look like I was 14 today. I’m wearing flats, and I look like I’m 4-foot-nothing.
Ann: Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t showered for 3 days.
Cristina (chimes in): Really? Three days?
Ann: Yes. I’m conserving water. [Pauses]. Actually, that’s a lie. I’m really lazy.
That story was to illustrate that we have good, honest comraderie in my office. We don’t call one another Pus Eye and expect each other to cry about it.
But I did cry about it. Involuntarily.
Because my Pus Eye is also watering.
I think I have an infected tear duct, and the pus has filled the tear duct to the point that it will not drain my tears. Someone ought to create a product to fix this and call it Drano: For Eyes. Only that might not sell very well, so… forget that. Heh.
While my eye has been feeling (and looking) better today, the last few days have been rather tedious. Monday night was the worst. I won’t go into detail, but every-so-often, I’d have to wipe my eye of a substance similar to mucous. It was itchy and hurt a little and all red.
Before you ask if I have pink eye, the answer is no, I do not have pink eye, and that’s disgusting. I most certainly would not be sharing on my blog if I had pink eye, and if you know what pink eye really is, you know why.
It happened a lot to farm kids in rural Minnesota where I grew up.
After they had fertilized the fields, if you know what I mean.
No, I believe Pus Eye is the result of a dangerous liaison. Instead of combining prescription drugs and alcohol, I combined mascara and sleep. For this problem, there ought to be preventative commercials featuring breakfast food.
This is your eye. This is your eye on old mascara.
Anyway, that’s not the point. I do have a point. But first, here is something else that is not the point:
Pus Eye has actually been kind of fun because I get to simulate crying at random moments. For example:
“Do you know Jessie?”
Eye fills up and tear rolls down cheek: “You don’t know how much I wish I could.”
“What are you doing?”
Eye fills up and tear rolls down cheek: “I am eating Cheerios. Grandpa used to eat Cheerios.”
“How is work going?”
Eye fills up and tear rolls down cheek: “They are calling me Pus Eye.”
The point is that the whole thing is making me think about that passage in the Bible where Jesus tells people not to try to pick the spec out of someone else’s eye without first removing the plank from our own.
There is a lot of gross stuff coming out of my eye. People see it and call tell there’s something wrong. It’s pretty easy for this intuitive brain to make a connection between my current physical ailments and my spiritual ailments. What would someone think if I walked up to her and told her that her eyeshadow is a terrible color while my eye is covered with pus?