Chewing the Corneal Fat

I had an entry all prepared, but I'll spare you. My eyes are dilated from the pre-operative evaluation for LASIK surgery -- I expect you to be impressed -- and I'm about to flee the fine print and rest these weary pupils. As my eye doctor, lovely woman, poked and prodded my corneas I kept thinking: "You've got to get used to this. Next time there'll be lasers." For some reason, thinking of lasers searing off the top layer of corneal fat didn't comfort me.

I asked my doctor if there wasn't something I could do at home to prepare for the lasers. Like, if I poked myself in the eye repeatedly with a sharp stick, would that toughen me up? Make the corneas calloused, desensitive them to the burning? Hello? She gave me a bottle of antibiotic eyedrops. I guess that's just as good.

Highway 101 is closed to the south, which is understandable. You don't mess around with mudslides. However, an infinitesimally small consequence of the closure is that my director can't come to town to meet with the actors. I know this doesn't compare to the horror that the good people of La Conchita are experiencing -- there's still some part of me that isn't a complete and total sociopath (now 24% sociopath-free) -- but I'm sharing because it affects my play. A natural disaster is affecting my play. Truly, this is an unexpected turn of events.

LASIK countdown: 24 days.