The Inmates Run the Asylum

Today has been a tangle of fail.

I went to the eye doctor for the first time in four years for an exam to get new contacts. After being told that I'd have to start using disposables, I was then told the cheapest they had was 157 bucks for a year.

Now let me get this straight. You want me to pay 157 dollars for something that I'm supposed to throw away after a month. I'm having trouble following your logic on this one, eye people.

After balking at the price, the doctor offered me a "free" pair to wear for a week while I thought about it. I don't know if she thought this "free" pair would help me see the 157 dollars I need to buy a year's supply or what, but I took them and I have an appointment to go back next week to haggle.

Why do I keep putting "free" in quotation marks? Because she said they were free, yet I was charged 30 bucks for them on my receipt. Awesome.

Yeah, I think I'm going to follow Carrie's advice about trying to get a six month supply (which should be about 60 bucks cheaper) and then I'll be going somewhere else from now on.

In other news, it's slowly dawned on me that I didn't really think things through with this whole jewelry thing. As is common with me, I thought bigger than I was capable for, so now I'm having to go back and make some fixes. It's not a huge deal (yet), but an aggravating one to say the least, and not something I wanted to spend my afternoon untangling.

So in conclusion, it was just like a typical Thursday in the cube except I wasn't in the cube and I was the root of most of my problems today.

At least next week I'll be prepared for Thursday.

Quick Papa update: He got out of the hospital yesterday and is doing well.

I took Carrie to buy fireworks tonight. Apparently, you can't get them in NY. Anyway, we didn't get anything fancy just smoke bombs, poppers, snakes, and three foot morning glories.

Carrie's never seen smoke bombs or morning glories. I took her out back and showed her the smoke bombs. Other than being convinced I was going to start the alley on fire, she liked them. The morning glories will come after dark.

I've come to a new level of self-doubt in my writing career (if I put it down as my occupation on my class reunion bio then I might as well call it a career, even if it's not necessarily official yet). Now that I'm comfortable enough with my work to send it out, I'm hitting the "is this original enough/is it what this magazine wants?" wall.

I realize I've just got to relax and go with it. Read the mags and decide for myself. My take on the stories is what makes them original. It's all been done before. Yadda yadda yadda.

But, I just got hit in the face last night with this dread that I may have busted my ass on a bunch of stories that I'll never be able to sell and that puts me back at square one.

After a few minutes of panicking, I gathered my scrambled brains, put 'em on ice, and went back to work. LIke my American History teacher used to say, just keep pluggin' away.

And for no particular reason at all, I had a random realization that I probably should have started tagging my LJ entries a long time ago.

This is how my brain works, people. Not very well.