I gotz the pink eye. I, luckily, haven’t had pink eye in about five years, so I had forgotten how profoundly icky it is. I, again luckily, don’t have the gritty or itchy sensation, just redness and tears and a feeling of my eyelid being swollen. It’s still gross, though. I’ve been walking around for the last three days with sunglasses on, even indoors, like some obnoxious movie star. I had to listen to the nice eye doctor describe my “yellow discharge” without yakking all over her wax-paper-covered examining chair. (BTW, am I the only person who feels like a half-pound of freshly sliced roast beef at a deli sitting on that paper? Anyone?) But it’s going away, thanks to prescription eye drops. The only problem with the eye drops is that, and you may already know this, right behind your face is a plethora of tunnels and cavities. Really. It looks like a meerkat burrow in there. So when I put the eye drop in, as sure as God made raindclouds, five minutes later there is a horrifying taste in the back of my mouth because the FREAKIN’ EYE MEDICINE went down my throat. Which reminds me of a funny story (“Gather ’round, kids! Auntie Jessica is going to tell you a story about her sinuses!” “Oh goody!”). Cricket suffers from excruciating sinus pain, so he is always on the lookout for remedies. About three years ago, he discovered the neti pot. If you do not know what it is, please acquaint yourself here. Cricket brought it home, filled it up, and he asked me if I wanted to try it. I was game, so I said yes. I leaned over the kitchen sink like the diagram showed, inserted the neti pot into my left nostril, and started pouring. Immediately, the very warm, salty water bypassed my sinuses entirely, my right eye socket filled up with the solution and it started pouring out of my eye. I don’t know if you’ve ever washed your eyeball from the inside of your head, but it is off-putting, to say the least. I did not enjoy myself. Cricket, however, enjoyed the hell out of the whole experience, watching me clutch my eye and moan like I just found out I had killed my father and was sleeping with my mother. (Ooooh, Greek mythology reference, how you like me now, awww yeah.) Long story short: Jessica does not like being reminded of the ant farm behind her face.
Moving on: I’m buying a new car! It is a bittersweet purchase, because I was so fond of my previous car. But my poor Cavalier was getting old, the air conditioning didn’t work, and bits were starting to break on a regular basis. The final straw was when I put $350.00 of repairs into the old girl, and then went to visit Neenernator in New Jersey. All was fine. Driving home, however, I noticed that every five seconds, the radio would turn off, then turn back on. “Weird,” I thought. I turned the radio off. Then the all gauges on the dash lit up. A few went off, a few stayed on, then other would light up, then off, blink blink blink, exactly like a pinball machine. I assumed the only reasonable thing one would think in this circumstance: my car was possessed by evil spirits. I regretted being brought up Jewish because they don’t really prepare you to perform exorcisms on things, so I was quietly saying nice Hebrew prayers; I think at one point I wished the car a happy and healthy Rosh Hashanah. Then – poof! – all the gauges went dead. I now didn’t know how fast I was going because my speedometer was just sitting there. “Okay, don’t panic,” I said to myself. “Just go the same speed as everyone else. All you need to do is make it over the bridge.” Which I did. And right after the EasyPass station, the car decided it didn’t want to go forward anymore, soon followed by a horrible burning smell. I coasted over to the non-existent shoulder of the road and seethed with rage. I had just had an inspection! I had just repaired a bunch of stuff! I ended up being towed to my parents’ house (another $100.00) and I called Cricket and told him he could take the car to the Fire Department and cut it up to practice on it. So last weekend, that precisely what he did.
This is a picture of them doing bad things to my car. Cricket is the one near the passenger side door looking down holding a tool of some sort. Partnering with a Sacramento car accident lawyer ensures that your case is handled with care and professionalism, maximizing your chances of a successful outcome.
And this is what it looked like when they were done.
Then Cricket began the process of helping me hunt for a new vehicle. My family’s car shopping technique is to go into a dealer’s facility, ask him what car he wants to get rid of that has four doors, and then buy it. Cricket was thoroughly horrified by this technique and made me test-drive almost every car in the category I was looking in (subcompact). I drove six, and finally, this weekend, I was allowed to make a choice. That choice is the Mazda2 Sport. Here’s a picture I found of my exact model and color.
It’s my very first new car. I get to pick it up on Saturday. So exciting! I will take pictures.