Poor Vision

The writing over at my sister's blog, Graze, has been brilliant recently. She's kept me laughing, and she's interesting too.

It started with Polka Music, moved on to Small Smalls and odd library books, including "The Pox." Then yesterday she posted about her dreadful vision. And this got me thinking about my Dreadful Vision.

I don't have any astigmatism, but am fairly short-sighted. Not quite as blind as Swift Jan, but getting there. Contact lenses make it all okay. Without the contacts, I am hopeless. I'd lie in bed all day. Seriously. I just can't function without lenses. AT ALL.

I have blogged about this before:

When I was a brand-new first-time Mum, I learned that the worst part of being terribly short-sighted is changing dirty nighttime nappies. Without contact lenses, you have to get extremely close to the -err- project to do a good cleanup job. And of course, 'extremely close' is the least desirable place to be.

I remember once having an afternoon sleep while I was on a camp. For once, I'd taken my contact lenses out (I usually leave them in for short naps, but was hoping for a LONG sleep this particular afternoon.)

I slept face-down on my sleeping bag (this must have happened so many years ago - no Thingamababy, nothing else either) and when I woke up, I squinted through the familiar myopic hazeat my reflection in the mirror.

I'm not sure why I did this. I can be fairly sure I won't see anything. But this one time, I noticed a dark brown welt extending across my thigh that I was sure hadn't been there before I fell asleep.

It looked like a three-day-old burn, and it looked terrible. It gave me a huge shock.

Then as the fuzz of sleep cleared, I realised what had happened.

I'd fallen asleep on a chocolate sultana, and the chocolate had melted and smeared across my leg as I'd slept.