Well, my trip to the eye doctor was an adventure. I started off late, of course, and subjected my darling son to the harsh morning sunlight and the ear-splitting sounds of the demolition team up the street as we set off galloping on Penn Avenue. About five minutes into the journey I stopped dead in my tracks and said out loud, “I'm going the wrong way…I'm such a FUCKING moron!” I did a 180, burned some Evenflo stroller rubber and set off in the right direction. At that point I had about five minutes until my appointment and I considered just calling and rescheduling since I was definitely going to be at least 15 minutes late. But I was determined and set off speedwalking once again. By the time I got to the entrance of West Penn Hospital I was drenched in sweat and my son was looking a little stressed out. I went in the main door naively thinking that I would manage to get where I needed to go with little difficulty.
Wrong.
No directories, no signs, no receptionists. Just a bank of elevators and a courtesy phone. I stopped a woman who appeared to be a staff member, who pointed me towards the courtesy phone and more or less told me to knock myself out. Thanks. I picked it up and asked them to courteously direct me to Dr. Kobaly's office. They gave me a phone number, which I called, and spoke to a very confused lady. She was confused because they gave me the number of Dr. Kobaly's associate in the North Hills. Great! Through several more convoluted conversations I discovered that I needed to go to the Mellon Pavillion, which required me to get on the elevator, go to the second floor, follow a bunch of arrows down a long and winding hallway, speak to troll and tell him my name, quest, and favorite color, cross a suspension bridge, joust with Xena, get on another set of elevators, go to the Mezzanine level, outwit David Bowie, then go through the labyrinth that is the Mellon Pavillion until I arrive at Dr. Kobaly's office.
I dashed in, 25 minutes late, and yelled from the doorway, “Do I need to reschedule?” They just sort of shrugged off my tardiness which endeared them to me. The baby and I settled in the waiting room and I started getting worried that he was going to be “that baby.” You know, the one who climbs all over everything and pisses everyone off. He was relatively chill, though.
When we got called back they did the usual, “Better 1 or 2? Better 1 or 3? Better 3 or 15?” Then I got the oh-so-fun pupil-dilating drops. Sent back out to the waiting room and of course I had left my glasses at home so I had to navigate the twists and turns with my shite vision and my pupils dilating to the size of saucers.
I sat down next to an older man, perhaps late 70s, who complimented me on how sweet the baby was. I squinted at him and said thanks. The baby looked at him and said, “Elbow,” then tried to kiss his own elbow. The older gentleman then started to tell me about how his daughter married an “Aim-ish” (Amish) man so his grandson, Matthew, was half “Aim-ish” and very cute. But his son married a very sweet girl who already had a 3 year old son. But there was some kind of custody battle with the father and, “Ohhh, don't ever deal with lawyers…especially in New Jersey…or just women lawyers in general.”
…
Okay, I realize that we all share some sort of vision impairment but can't the dood see that I am obviously a woman and might take offense to such a statement? And what if I was a lawyer? What then, huh?
Well, we finished the rest of our visit without further incident and I was once again sent out to the wild jungles of West Penn Hospital. I got lost no less than three times navigating my way out and forgot to put my sunglasses on before we egressed the building. Consequently, I nearly collapsed in pain when the sunlight hit my face.
We walked home through Bloomfield and I stopped into the Groceria Italiana, bought the baby a pretzel rod for being a doll, bought myself some water and meringue drop cookies, and bought the boyfriend a meatball sandwich. I thought for sure I would hand it to him, he would burst into tears from gratification as I told him how the old Italian babas had slaved over the meatballs and bread as “Ave Maria” played in the background.
Instead.
“Oh…um…I don't like meatballs.”
Wha–? We've been together almost three years and somehow this piece of information managed to elude me. Pfft. Whatever.
Also accomplished today: finished most of my article, I'll most likely be sending it in tomorrow. Wish me luck. did a couple of loads of laundry. saw my first review for www.wintermittens.com go “live.” very cool. cleaned the bathroom, paying particular attention to the toilet due to an incident early this morning. It was kind of gross and I'll only tell the tale to people who really want to know (men-folk, you probably don't want to know). Now my hand is all dried out from the Soft Scrub with Bleach. Walked back and forth from West Coast Video twice because I forgot to put the Mulholland Dr. DVD in the case. I rool.
Now the boyfriend is at Kelly's and I'm here since my mom is out in Oakmont tending to my grandmother.
uhhh, I think I had a lot more to say but my brain is pretty shot.
