Searching for my contact lens

Have you ever seen the television show Search Party. It is quite bizarre with horribly self-absorbed characters who keep you sucked in. I both recommend and not recommend that television show. Sometimes, I feel like I am conducting my own life’s search party. But that is a story for another day. Although, it just might not be. I suppose I should mention that this television show is about a woman who believes a friend is missing and becomes obsessed with finding her to the detriment of all roped into the search. I will not spoil the ending for you. But I do wonder, if at times, I’m stuck in a search for something that is not missing. Did I just spoil the ending? No, I did not as that is not the ending.

I really am not searching for a missing person. Except for myself. No. That is not true. I know myself. I know my worth. As a matter of fact, I just advised a colleague to make sure they knew their worth. But perhaps I am missing something.

Well, the other day I was missing my contact lens and it led to all sorts of weird pokes, prods, and pitiful attempts to search for the lens at the back of my left eye. It was early in the morning and only one cup of coffee in me. I went to place my contact lens. They are dailies. So, I throw a pair out each day. I plaved the contact lens on my right eye. I should note I have been wearing contacts for two decades now. I got this. And, then I didn’t.

I went to place the contact lens on my left eye and then closed my eye. And go to wash my hands again. Then, I realize my vision is fuzzy. Something was off. Or rather. It seemed like something was not on. I looked in the sink and there was no lens. I looked on the floor and there was no lens. I looked in the waste basket and nothing. I could only assume the lens had rolled back. I started to try to make my eyes tear up. I pulled my eye lid out. I thought of the ending to the movie My Girl. Oh, what a tearjerker! But no lens fell out.

I had to run to work. I had no spare time. I kept trying to makd my eye cry. I got in the cab and watched an ASPCA video. But I still couldn’t see.

I eventually took out my right lens and used my funky, cool eye glasses. It’s good to mix things up, anyway. But all day, I just knew that the other lens was rolled up at the back of my eye. I kept thinking about it. Blaming my headache on it. Blaming my back ache on it.

Two days later, I found a pair of contact lens in my scrunchy bowl. Indeed, it had never made it into my eye despite both my certainty and obsession. All those aches came from something else, as well. But I’m not starting a search party.

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