Saw the cataract surgeon today; he took a good look around and was quite pleased with how well all of it was healing.

I had one last burning question: when was I going to be able to wash my hair.

Don’t let any soap in your eye whatsoever and then the answer is whenever you want to.

You know those times when you can’t shout YAYYY!!! at the top of your voice while jumping up and down like a maniac because you’re expected to act like a grownup?

The rolled-up towel against my back to keep me from rolling over at night, the little bit of eye pain, the no exercise/no bending over/no lifting over five pounds, the waiting for my vision as it sneaks back into view slowly–I think emotionally it all kind of summed itself up simply in Man, I just badly want to be able to clean my hair.

It actually pulled off a surprisingly not bad job of faking it in the meantime. I was surprised.