When I picked Dean up after his laser eye surgery this morning, he embraced me and said I’d never looked so beautiful.
That’s because at that point, his eyes were still weepy and he couldn’t really see me.
(I made all that up.)
(His eyes really were very teary, though. I’d figured that someone who’d had as hard a time getting used to putting in contacts as Dean had (when he started wearing contacts, two years ago) would not have the easiest time with Lasik. He says they had to pause the procedure three times while doing his left eye, because his eye was so twitchy. Urgh. No wonder my subconscious wouldn’t let me sleep last night. Dean also said that in the end they “of course” told him they’d gotten both eyes perfect–so we’ll have to hope that was true.)
After the Lasik they taped clear plastic shields over Dean’s eyes that he’s supposed to wear all day for one day, and then at night for a week. I had asked why he couldn’t just wear safety glasses and he’d said, “I was thinking the same thing.” So he went and put on his safety glasses.
He said, “See, nobody had to invent those shields when there’s something else that works that already exists.”
“Well, maybe they thought people who are used to glasses would absent-mindedly put their fingers under the glasses to wipe their eyes. Or maybe they thought the shields would look less dorky than safety glasses.”
“The shields look much more dorky!”
“Well, maybe they thought the shields seemed more . . . surgical.”
Dean said, “I have racquetball glasses that would work, too.” Putting them on, he said, “Which looks more dorky, these, or the safety glasses?”
That’s when I lost it and collapsed in a fit of giggles. (He settled for the safety glasses.)