Minor has another ear infection—or rather, he has the new-’n'-improved version of the one he’s had since Thanksgiving—and on Monday morning I awoke to find my right eye encased in a flaky crust similar to that pouring out of his left ear. Dr. Google tells me that the bacterium that causes ear infections can also cause conjunctivitis. Pink, my favorite color!

So I’ve been walking around for two days with one red, swollen eye that’s weeping independently of the other. It’s as though the left side of my brain is really depressed, perhaps because it failed the math section of its SATs, whereas the right side is bright and chipper because there’s a double period of Art today. Or something like that.

The worst part of the whole thing is that I have to wear my glasses. I’m not opposed to glasses in principle; I like the Lisa Loeb/Tina Fey look, personally. But my prescription is so high that my lenses make my eyes look freakishly small. It’s far more Mr. Magoo than Ms. Fey.

Since I got contact lenses at age twelve I’ve rarely worn my glasses in public. In fact, in the last ten years I can count the occasions on one hand, made memorable by the fact that each time someone I’ve known fairly well has failed to recognize me. The last time (Halloween 1998; Husband and I went as Catholic school children, complete with nerdy specs), my friend’s new girlfriend introduced herself to me. “Hey, Suzie, it’s me; you just sent me the RSVP for my wedding.” You know the movie cliche of the girl who removes her glasses, and she’s so hot that nobody recognizes her? I’m her hideous opposite number.