Friday, May 31, 2013

Episode 1

A few things happened lately that made me wonder: Am I mentally ill, genetically predisposed to quirkiness or just hard of hearing?  I will lay it out for you and see what conclusion you come to.  Or to which conclusion you come.  That sounds weird, too. Do you ever get to the place where none of the words you write seem right?   Too Yup, Me.

Then, as I tried to work out the answer to this question, the post became so long that I decided it was time for something new:  A WEB SERIES!  I can't wait to see what happens.  The series is 3 episodes, unless I feel like making it longer.  

Anyway, first I would like to introduce my Grandma V. (I promise this will all come together at some point.  Actually, promise is a strong word.  I should say, there is an outside chance this post may make sense by the end.)  Grandma's always been a bit, uh, quirky. She has had numerous health challenges over her life and has grown to distrust doctors.  I used to think that was nutty but as I watch doctors get younger over the years, I have more empathy for her viewpoint.  A few years back, she needed cataract surgery in one eye but she didn't trust the doctor to perform the surgery.  I am only guessing but it was likely because he might pop in a hidden camera while he was in there, or steal her good cornea.  You never know. So, clearly, the most reasonable alternative to laser surgery is to lift your eyelid with your fingertips any time you want to see who is talking to you.  Obviously, I am no doctor but I don't understand how the manual eyelid lifting thing helps her cataract.  Would pulling your eyelid up with your index finger make a tiny shade?  I think the cataract would still be there, only it would be darker.  Unless she's trying to use the eyelid as a reflector to get more light in. Okay, that makes sense. 

Now that you have a glimpse of my genetic background, consider the following episodes/incidents:

I ran out to get groceries and when I returned to the house I pushed my sunglasses up on my head to hold my hair back.  Three hours later when I left to pick up the kids, I couldn't find my sunglasses so I pulled out another pair and raced off.  Half an hour later, and many encounters with normal human beings later, I realized I was actually wearing two pairs of sunglasses, one on my eyes and one as a hairband.  And, I am not even sure that was the worst part of my outfit.

End Episode 1 - To be continued...(Insert dramatic music here, sounds kinda like "dund, dun, daaaa" in my head.  I also make piano-playing motions with my hands at the same time but you don't have to do that.  Unless you want to.)

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