The prodigal returns

Boy oh boy don’t walk away for very long! WordPress forgets you, can’t id you, ignores whatever you tell them, start over, Duhhhhh. Yes, I know the purpose is to know for sure I am who I say I am. Kidding??? In today’s world? I check in the morning when I wake up:

Me: Good morning, Barbie.

Me: who is this?

Me: Is that you, Barbie?


Me: Can you identify yourself to me?

Me: Uh, that looks like my navel, so yes. I’m me.

Me: What’s your password?

Really? It’s my bed. It’s my nightgown. It’s my navel. It’s my morning breath. I’d know this woman anywhere. Take my word for it. THIS IS ME.

This is ridiculous. I must prove to myself….MYSELF…that I am indeed who I say I am and need access to my own PC. This took me a half hour and I STILL don’t know which of the many passwords I was asked to change, is the key in. No wonder nothing works in this country. My mother would have typed in some totally unacceptable words, left a serious piece of her mind and then decide a very tall whiskey sour is infinitely more desirable than typing drivel to an unidentified audience, if in fact there is one.

Hey. She wasn’t always wrong. I did have something on my mind to say but I can’t recall what that was. I have not been here to tend to the stew of story in several weeks. Cataract surgery limits that activity and it isn’t my own eyes causing this short term fail. Those eyes are my husband’s. Tomorrow we’ll trek an hour out to the surgery unit and do the remaining eye. Today was the first day he could happily realize HE CAN SEE, not just the wall but what’s on the wall! So with the remaining eye repaired he should be stunned that earth has much more clarity. He rarely emits loud noises complete with exclamation marks, so this morning’s shout out was a real joy for me. He had no real understanding re how or what the surgery was. New lens? Really? Ohhhh yeah. Bye bye glasses. His right eye from the jump now sees 20/20. This time next week he’ll think Superman is alive, well and must be his twin. Cataracts are stealthy tricksters leaving little clue that vision is very slowly seeping  away. The miracle is that the new lens, of which he was totally unaware, gives him back perfect eyesight. His stroke, though, stole his peripheral vision, which he prays he’ll get back with this correction. Not likely. And there goes his ability to drive. For a man, that’s like prison. For his wife? You don’t want to know.

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