Theater of the Absurd

My PROSE lenses, which allow me to see painlessly much of the time, made a fool out of me yesterday. I was popping them in when the phone rang. Instead of ignoring the call, I jumped up and ran into the other room to answer it. The problem was, my left lens had fallen somewhere in my haste. I crawled around on my hands and knees, searching every nook and cranny for this wildly expensive lens. Marty searched, too, and he is relentless in all he does.

Right lens in, we drove to the airport where Marty caught a flight to Florida to visit his mom. On the way, I called the Boston Foundation for Sight and arranged to have another lens made and shipped to me. These babies cost $750 each, of which insurance may or not pay part oft. When we got to the airport, I said to Marty that since my left eye was killing me, maybe I actually still had the lens in the eye. I used my little device to root around my eyeball, and lo and behold, it was in my eye. Even making it moist didn't feel so great, so I remove both lenses and put my glasses on. I was driving up to the country and wouldn't drive with just one lens. I also called BFS and told them to cancel my order because I'd found my lens in my eye. They didn't seem surprised. I guess their patients do wacky things like this all the time.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Does anybody?