There Is No Plan B

Right about the time I hit the "publish" button yesterday, my left eye started to itch. The itching quickly escalated until my eye was nearly swollen shut. It wasn't the type of swelling where I could come up with a fun story about a bar fight; it was more like a saggy yellow blister. From the left, I looked like Droopy Dog, which is a cute look for a cartoon character, not so great for a knitting lecturer.

Several heat packs, ice packs, and antihistamines later, my eye was open, but the swelling was not gone, and I now had the added feature of being in a drug-induced haze. Antihistamines knock me for a loop--big time. I've no need for any illegal drugs if I want to get stoned out of my gourd--one Benadryl and I'm seeing sparkles every time I turn my head--two and I pretty much lose all muscle control beyond the basic functions in the brain stem.

In addition, the laptop could not speak to the video projector and PowerPoint wouldn't even open anyway.

Let me just say that the drugs actually helped at this point. I was fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine with it all, fine with the universe. S'all gooood.

Eleven years ago at a major international conference, I had to give a 20-minute lecture on a painting by Waterhouse while passing a teeny-tiny slide around the room for these famous international scholars to hold up to the light, squinting all the while.

As a result, I have a long-term technology paranoia, and I don't believe in Plan B. I'm usually ready for Plan D.

I had warned the knitting guild about my technology paranoia--they had backup laptops and backup projectors. I had emailed a copy of the presentation in addition to the copy on the flashdrive.

At the end of it all, a sweet woman stood in the front of the room, holding up one 8 1/2 x 11 piece of paper after another on which I had printed each PowerPoint slide.

I think we were officially on Plan E by this point.

Other than that, it went great. The women of the Franklin County Fiber Guild were lovely, kind, and beyond generous. Their show-and-share was inspiring, and I was showered with gifts. While I would like to blame the drugs, the truth is that I'm a complete and total wreck when it comes to names even on a good day. So, thanks go out to Kathy, who brought me there, but also to all the members. I'm wearing the earrings even as I type.



Last night I was still under the influence, with the added benefit of waking up to pee every 2 hours due to all the Diet Coke I'd chugged to stay awake enough for my talk. At some point I jammed my toe.

This morning was spent at the vet's office with Sherman, who has been having trouble peeing, but who, after a few shots of antibiotics, felt well enough to pee in the truck on the way home.

Why is there motor oil in the living room? That's another story.

S'all goooood.