Call your eye doctor. Which is what I did yesterday, as soon as I got to work. Thankfully, his office is open late on Tuesdays.
I have a stye. (Not the same as the sty which is the area in front of my bedroom closet, but every bit as annoying.) Last night I improvised a hot compress by wetting a chamomile teabag, then a white washcloth, and binding them to my head with the aid of a hand towel and the chin strap for my CPAP. The CPAP harness itself provided the last of the anchoring. I probably looked like a scary space monster ~ more so than usual ~ but I slept reasonably well, and the itching is less this morning.
I am beginning to make headway on the backlog from when I was on vacation for six consecutive days plus this Monday for my diabetes check. I am doing this only by the grace of Heaven, because there is far more work than any one human being could reasonably manage, and I am too stubborn to ask for help. Well, maybe not that, in this particular instance, because I'm the only one who can navigate the depths of my inbox. My backups handled the mail quite ably in my absence. Yesterday I dealt with the dregs of two days' worth of mail for both attorneys. I am hoping to accelerate that when I get to the office today.
And I just made a Draconian purge of my personal email, which had over 300 items. It is now down to 77. I'm not done, but I'm also not cringing when I open my inbox.
The stealth project is coming along nicely.
Time to pack my breakfast and lunch, sluice off, grab my bags, and GIT!
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!