I don't mean a "funky eye" as in, an uncanny ability to combine weird patterns and strange fabrics into something fashionable (I have a hard enough time coordinating my stupid Walmart wardrobe) or to spot a '70s-throwback lamp at a thrift store and incorporate it successfully into my decor. When I say funky eye I mean that quite literally. Like, my left eye. Is funky. Like, goopy. And red. And swollen nearly shut. And this morning when I woke up, I couldn't even open it. I couldn't even pry my eyelids apart with my fingers, y'all.
I think it has something to do with my contact lens. I've worn the things for years, and sorely wish I didn't have to - but alas, my vision without them can be described as somewhere between "blurry" and "blind." I've hated them ever since I put in my first pair, as a wee tiny lass of eleven.*
*Wherein I sat so long at the eye doctor's office fumbling to put the damn things in my eyes that after a few hours they suggested I come back to try again the next day.
Anyway, I'm one of those people who waaaaay over-wears her contacts. Technically mine are supposed to be thrown away like every week or something - I don't even really know - but I wear them until they start to irritate me ... like three months or so. Oops. (Well, contacts are expensive, damn it!) Anyway, the other day my left one started getting this little white spot on it, like a protein deposit or something that I couldn't wash off. But I wore it anyway. I know, I'm a dumb-dumb. And now ... *cue dramatic voice* ... FUNKY EYE.
So I've got an appointment with the eye doctor today, where I will undoubtedly be given a sound scolding for abusing my precious peepers. I guess I deserve it. But trust me, it's punishment enough to be walking around in public looking like Quasimodo.
Only, you know, without the huge hunchback. Thank goodness.