Yesterday morning I went to the ophthalmologist for my annual exam, and we discovered that my enigmaticy has spread to my eyes. (Is there no noun form of enigmatic? Do I really need to rewrite the English language to include the words I sometimes use, or do I just need to start using real words? Saying that my enigma has spread to my eyes sounds like I have a problem. I have 99 problems, but an eye enigma ain’t one.) Anyway, I’m 45 years old and my vision is improving which probably means that it’s only a matter of time before I can see what you’re thinking.
Is my vision improving because I sold my soul so that the painting of me in our attic can age as I continue to indulge in libertine impulses? Probably not. Is it because I switched things up at the intersection of Food Street and Peace of Mind Avenue? Probably? Maybe? Let’s say yes.
This has nothing to do with that: A few years back, Jeff had to drive me to the hospital because I thought I was suffering from gastric dilatation-volvulus, which is something that mainly affects dogs, but never say never! Anyway, I left the hospital (against medical advice!) a few hours later after having the following conversation with the emergency department nurse.
Nurse: Can you tell me what you ate today?
Me: For breakfast I had corn on the cob. Lunch was corn on the cob again, but on a spinach salad. For dinner I was feeling off, so I just had some popcorn.
Once I verbalized my food, I realized that I had spent the day eating like a factory-farmed cow while living less than five miles away from Monsanto! I went home to ride out the storm, thereby saving us millions of dollars in hospital fees.