Pinkeye

Typing is thinking, all right. And seeing is believing.

My dear daughter "gifted" me a pretty, pink conjunctivitis in both eyes (aka pinkeyes), and I have trouble reading the screen. My eyes are sore, and the insides of the lids look like Bergen cobblestone while the outside of them swell like balloons. Pollen allergic neigbours swarm around me to offer sympathy and advice - and the odd "now you know how I feel all spring."

But honestly, it is not bad when I avoid looking in mirrors. What really hurts, is that I never really understood just how much I depend on typing to think. That it took almost a year from naming my blog to realising this is just horrible.

On a different note: Norwegian readers might know the song that is now my daughter's favourite. In preparation for a kindergarten pirate party tomorrow she hollers it non stop: Jeg er Pinky. In her translation, I am Pinkeye (in the official translation, the lad is called Ron and the pun is lost).