The Conversations In My Brain

Now, before you have me fitted for a huggie-jacket, the voices in my brain aren’t really real (or are they?) I think everyone has experienced some sort of inner-voice conversation, call it your “Jiminy Cricket” or ‘Little Voice” or sometimes they are God Whispers. A bubble that just randomly pops in your head with the thought of someone,  a memory triggered by the smell of lilacs,  the irrational thought aka Chicken Little, or the rational thought that might actually be a warning.

To get a full picture of my crazy, you need the full word-picture of the last 72 hours…
I’m rather new and inexperienced in the contact lens world. I gave a myself a victory whoop-whoop the first time I got both of my contacts in on the first try. However, I have yet to give the victory chant for getting them out. That f’ing left eye always gives me trouble. After a long long day in the salon, I arrived home bone weary and dog-tired. First order of business, get the bra off as soon as I hit the door! (Can I get an amen, Ladies?) Hubby was already in bed, so I kissed him hello. (had he still been up, I would have kissed him first, then flung the bra off on my way through the house)

Next order of business, remove the Mohave Desert of contacts stuck to my eyeballs. Right one out, boom, first try. Left one….nope….uh, nope….uh, swear words – nope. Vexation and aggravation has descended upon my bathroom; cue the Disneyesque smog. OK, deep breath, wash your face, kiss the hubby again, attempt the contacts again. Ok, this MotherTrucker is in there, I know it! I cannot see it, anywhere on the counter or on me, etc. So now, I’m to the point of pure, unbridled determination to get this damn thing out. I am digging and pinching and flipping my eye inside out looking for this bastard. That’s when the panic sets in! Little Voice: “OMG, what if it’s stuck in there forever. What if it’s stuck to the back of my eyeball and travels to my brain? If I go to sleep with it in, my eye will be permanently damaged and I’ll be blind”

Now, I’m usually a rational intelligent human being, but the Little Voice sometimes wins out. I can usually quiet it with Google, But in this case, it provided no comfort. So I did what any other 46 year-old, pink-haired, rationally thinking woman would do… I took a Xanax and went to sleep!

The next morning, I was certain I would awake to crustaceans surrounding my eyeball and blindness already having settled. But much to my surprise, I could see. Hallelujah, I could see! And all I can see is a eyeball that is red and feels as though it is covered in sandpaper.  After a quick shower and coffee in hand, I drive to the Eye Dr., where I am certain he’s going to tell me some soap-operaesques tale of a rare and horrible case of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Disease. And you will be banished to a Tiki Island with Greg Brady and Vincent Price. Ok, overly dramatic, I know. But low and behold, there was no contact in, on, near or behind my eye. What I had done is scratch the ever.loving.shit out of the sac around my eye and needed some simple antibiotic drops. Whew, ha ha, Little Voice, you sure are an overreacting idiot. And where that contact went, I haven’t a clue!

While I’m out and about, after having defeated the Eye Dr, I have this sharp pain in my chest. Stabbing pain. Jabbing pain. Now Ladies, we always make fun of the guys for always having to (ahem) adjust their junk, but we all know, if there is something amok with the ‘girls’ we are gonna find out what it is, no matter where we are or who is around. Rational brain does not kick in, Little Voice takes over and said “get it out! It might be a killer wasp that stung you or brown recluse spider with flesh eating disease and chapped lips!” (Logical Brain knows spiders don’t have lips, sheesh!) And as if car dancing at a stoplight isn’t embarassing enough, digging for gold in your bra at a stoplight might just take the cake! With a little wiggle and scavenging, the entire under-wire busts loose from it’s holster.  The culprit, I’m holding in my hand, a metal torture device in the shape of a smile. I’m not smiling Little F’r, this was a $60 bra! (Sorry honey, it wasn’t on sale) This little singular smile, mocking me, letting me know, I no longer had it’s support. Bastard! I think Little Voice actually laughed at me too.

And today, ironic as ever, I go to SugarJones for cupcakes after my dentist appointment! Ha! Wanting ever so much to put my nose to the case and press in to get their full deliciousness, Little Voice said to behave. The Doll-Baby behind the counter asked how many I wanted so that she would know what size box to pull. Cue the internal dialogue…

Annisa Voice: a dozen
Little Voice: You don’t need a dozen. Just get 4
Annisa Voice: Oh, I need more than 4
Little Voice: Need? Really?
Annisa-out-loud-Voice: Let’s do 2 four-boxes please.

As I picked out my choices, which have to be in pairs. (That’s a different neurosis I’m sure) I pay for my cupcakes and Doll-baby asks if I want a bag for the 2 boxes. Yes please, I replied. I carry my 8 cupcakes to the car and place the bag on the floor of the passenger seat. Now this is where the God Whisper shows up, “That top box is going to slide off and you’ll have a mess.” And like I often do to God, “Nah, it will be fine”. I back up, turn left out of the parking lot, and boom… my box done slid off… off, open and a cupcake run amok. Butter-cream frosting smeared everywhere. I’m pretty sure I heard God say “I told you so”, as I whipped into the adjacent parking lot.

I’m also keenly aware of my own laughter at this point. Laughing in the revelation that the events of the week are all tied in together.

  • The contact  lens debacle led me to Matthew 7:3-5 (NIV)
    Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.
    Yep, I’d been a pissy-pants whining about this and that all the while not noticing that it’s of no service to anyone around me. 
  • The run-away underwire, stabbing the left-sister, the side where my heart is. Was a message that I needed to remember those who are supporting me and not to dwell on those who have appeared to have stabbed me in the heart.
  • Well the cupcake episode, that is a lesson in a couple of ways. When God gives you that little Whisper, it’s in your best interest to listen so that life doesn’t get messy and roll away from you. The other lesson; no, I really didn’t need to get more than 4 cupcakes. But it was a good idea to have a back-up plan. Because I still have 4 cupcakes in the other box!!!


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