Evil Eye

This is a light-hearted follow-up to the very serious second-of-two part rants I finally wrapped up yesterday.  I find this funny because of all the major medical issues Di and I have navigated, this just was sort of the fluffy spray-whipped-topping type of issue that keeps life regular.  More darkly, it’s a great example of how ongoing medical struggles with our healthcare system can turn a normal, well-adjusted woman into a borderline hypochondriac (which she really is not).

I walk in the door after my first trip in about two months, which for me and my job is astounding in terms of duration.  I’m home about fifteen minutes, unpacking my dirty laundry to do later, getting my toothpaste and stuff ready for tomorrow, and other activities to police up the assorted crap that I dragged home.  Di ventures downstairs, and after a nice hug and kiss, I hear about The Eye.

Mind you, this is presented as a possible Major Medical Issue.  The specifics are that her right eye itches, burns, and waters.  Apparently she just woke up this way.  I suggest she has a cat hairball lodged deep in her eye socket.  No, this can’t be.  I then suggest she inadvertently scratched it while sleeping last night.  No, can’t be, Di is so on-top of every movement in this house she’d know damn well if she itched her eye while deep in Stage 4 REM sleep.  Pink eye?  No.  Terrorist plot?  No.  “Okay, Babe, after everything we’ve been through in two months, do you want me to tote you to the emergency room?” I asked her.  Nope, no way, she doesn’t want to go blind.  I was puzzled, so was she.

Calls were made, solutions were proposed.  Ultimately, Di took a hot bath and afterward everything seemed pretty much better with all the symptoms on the mend.  Still, Di was unsatisfied because of the dangling ‘why’ to the whole affair.  She walked around as we knocked out some chores, still spouting possible explanations.  Finally, as I’m applying my high-pressure scrubbing technique to some baked-on, caked-on stuff, she says this:

“Well, you know I was in 7-11 yesterday.”

I dropped the green pad and looked at her.  My right eyebrow shot up Mr. Spock style (I am well-known and envied for this ability).  I was momentarily thrown, and my CPU struggled to keep up.  Conversation ensued:

  • ME:  “Seven-Eleven?”
  • DI:  “Uh huh.  I picked up smokes.”
  • ME:  “And that’s what’s wrong with your eye?”
  • DI:  “Maybe.”
  • ME:  “You were in 7-11 and that’s what is wrong with your eye.”
  • DI:  “What else would it be?”
  • ME:  “You’re telling me you have Seven-Eleven Eye.”
  • DI:  “Why are you laughing?”
  • ME:  “I’m not touching that.”

To be honest I’m still lost as to the connection.  By the way, she’s fine.

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14 Responses to “Evil Eye”

  1. Seven-Eleven Eye? That’s awesome. I’ve heard of “Crapper Barrell Syndrome” and therefore have never eaten there. If I go to 7-11 and get a sore eye I’ll let you know.

  2. OMG… You crack me up! I am still giggling! Not over Diana’s 7-11 eye lol but over the Spock style eye brow…I have seen that look before!

    Robyn

  3. That honestly sounds like my wife…I’m at a complete loss of words.

  4. I get what she was trying to say. It’s a woman thing, you wouldn’t understand…

  5. John Erickson Says:

    Not sure what you’ve seen, but some of the 7-11s I’ve encountered, well, I wouldn’t feel same in them without a full NBC suit.
    Big deal – you can raise your eyebrow. But can you do the Vulcan salute? If so, have you gotten the neck pinch to work? If so, can you show me? There’s a couple neighbors I could practise on, working my way up to the Death Grip for the A-holes that share our driveway.
    “Peace and long life” to both you and Di. 😉

  6. I expect that we can pick up all manner and variety of virus at the 7-11. 😉

  7. 7-11…that’s it no doubt.

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