Goddamned Eyes Are Itchy

I needed a break after that the Hieronymus Bosch “Garden of Earthly Delights” puzzle we did two weeks back.  As noted at the time, I got obsessed with it, “just a few more pieces” and it became a ferocious time-robber, elbowing aside things like reading and exercise.  But it was also seductive and fascinating to stare at that intricate masterpiece for so many hours, considering the smallest differences in color and purpose across that complicated canvass. 

Life is sufficiently well balanced again where I’m keen to knock it off kilter anew with a second Covid-19 jigsaw.  I’ve mentioned that I’d already ordered a fine, looking puzzle “Spring” a with its human portrait composed of flowers, by the legendary Giuseppe Arcimboldo.  Out the corner of my eye, I saw the UPS track barrel down the driveway and shortly thereafter head back out.  But I was disappointed to see that there was only a long tube to be seen, and no puzzle.  It must be something the girls ordered.

I rechecked the order on Amazon and not for the first time felt a flush of anger upon seeing the word “delivered” listed there in my site next to my puzzle.  Is it at my neighbors?  Is it at my mom’s?  Looking a bit closer I realized that I had, of course, not ordered a puzzle at all, but rather a print of said painting.  And going out and unwrapping the mail tube I confirmed that I was now a proud owner of a Flower Man print.

More orders.  Where’s my stuff?  Lens Crafters doesn’t let you ask that question.  I’d ordered four packs of contacts.  They better get here soon, as I’m running out.  I got a simple email saying my order was being processed.  They notably do not afford one a tracking number nor allow customers any obvious way to make inquires online.  I’m gun shy from trying the phone line as it was more than forty-five minutes before I reached a human.  So, I’m extending the life of my existing contacts to the point of itchiness, until I have some surety as to when these will arrive.

As I’ve written before, I’m sure, ignorant non-physician that I am, there is some grave, medical danger that could befall me if I were to go to a pharmacy, buy a back of contacts that were not the right size, put them in my eyes, say that’s funny I can’t see, and be dumb enough to drive off and onto the New York State Throughway only to kill myself and who knows how many others’ all because I did not procure my contact lenses from the safe hands of an eyeglass shop that has my prescription on file, as I would have done, conveniently enough, for over a decade in Beijing.   I’m not one to whine about the “nanny-State” but this silly.  And now the system is broken, and my goddamned eyes are itchy.

Thursday, 04/16/20