The eye hospital appointment I wasn't looking forward to this morning
was actually really good. A year ago I had a low-vision assessment, which basically consisted of "gadgets, can we give you them" -- it's where I got what they call a telescope, which I call a monocular because that's what I was told it was called when I got a much more low-tech one in grade school, and because telescopes are for looking at planets, not train departure displays. The orthoptist I saw the last time I was at the eye hospital told me he'd make sure I got my 12-month follow-up low vision assessment like was planned at th my 12-months-ago low vision assessment, and I got the impression I'd be discharged from MREH then to the care of my GP and optician as my condition's stable and...well, basically, I only had anything to do with them in the first place because I had to, to get registered blind.
This time I got a trainee who only introduced herself by her first name (Gemma), and she was really great. Somehow I ended up talking about the assessment I'd had from the council last summer, my frustrations with Henshaws who seem to limit their interest in me to trying to get me on a course I don't think suits me, my struggles with the new swimming baths -- I was talking to somebody who was a trained lifeguard, so she really lit up at that and was very confident about the advice she gave there, which was kind of great. We talked for absolutely ages, it was oddly therapeutic and entirely unexpected. I did come out of it with another gadget
, though I wish they made it with a slot for each kind of coin or something; pound coins are some of the easiest to find because they're twice as thick as the others.
Anyway, I went straight from the eye hospital this morning to helping Morag with her Ph.D. research
, which just meant walking around on a wonderfully hot and sunny afternoon and wittering as much as I liked, so basically perfect for me. Again, oddly therapeutic even though I don't think I was very good at answering questions specifically about Manchester which is what I was technically supposed to be doing, but Morag seemed very happy by the end of it, and I had a good time.
I also failed entirely to eat anything until after this, which might have contributed to me going home (and, admittedly, after a sandwich and a yogurt) crashing out hard. I didn't get much sleep last night, I got home just after Andrew had left for his pre-Brian-Wilson-gig pub meet, the dog was being cuddly and sleepy, so we both just crashed out.
I woke up not feeling up to going to the WI meeting tonight -- which is a shame because I missed the craft group yesterday for basically the same reason -- and am now struggling a bit: I feel like I should have done more with my day, even though there was a lot of thinking involved in both of the things I was out doing today. I was so good at keeping on top of the housework when Mom and Dad were here and that has inevitably fallen by the wayside since, which I'm vaguely disappointed about...but of course not enough that I've actually tidied or vacuumed or done the dishes. I ended up talking a bit to Morag about my Kickstarter book, and now I'm feeling guilty about not doing anything on that, either.
But also it occurred to me that two weeks ago I was frantically tidying and fixing and stressing ahead of my parents' visit, and that everything has been pretty exhausting since. I just worry when I'm so lacking in motivation, when I just shut down any time that there isn't some external pressure getting me to do something.
Oh also I had a phone call on Sunday about the fat-girl focus group thing
, which in the process answered the question my friends and I are pondering there about what's meant by "an outfit you feel really good in" -- like Sass and I feared
, it seems to be a "what makes you feel sexy" type of thing they're after, which...I don't ever do? To me, an outfit I feel good in is trousers with lots of pockets and a t-shirt with something funny written on it. But I can work on that tomorrow -- homework's not due until then!
The lady who rang me seemed to think I'd be awesome at this...once again that thing about me that Em J so diplomatically refers to as "being direct" is a feature and not a bug like I usually worry it is. Apparently this is an unusual setup in that there will actually be senior people from the company paired up with us to hear what we have to say, and with the practiced delivery of someone who's had to reassure many fat girls, this woman said "they'll be more scared than you are." Me, not needing reassurance of course, was like "quite right! bring it on!" (only to myself though...but I probably gave that impression anyway in what I did
say, which might be why she said I was going to be awesome at this). Should be a laugh, anyway.