I went to bed two hours ago, which doesn’t explain why I am sitting here in the dining room fretting over my left eye and quietly sinking into a morass of nerve endings.
Today, this afternoon, my left eye started watering. No reason. It just started watering and I thought, perhaps, it would go away if I just ignored it. Then I remembered that after my heart operation, I could see a little smiley face when I closed my left eye. That worried me. But, I ignored that too.
However, together, the combination was too much to ignore so I have been thinking about it, sipping on a watered-down orange juice and rubbing against an alien cat who has designs on something that only Dr. Zarkov could imagine!
So, how would I feel about not having a left eye? Is my left eye more important than my heart, which I have just recently refurbished? How foolish!
Of course, my heart is more important . . unless, I am in an Edgar Allen Poe short story about a dead left eye. Then the left eye would be more important. A left eye on the dining room table, just looking at me, just thinking about me. Just thinking about what I had done . . and where I buried the rest of the body, sans eye!!!
I think I better go to bed before the alien eats me . . if I can find my bed with my watery left eye.