Be Seein' Ya

I have so much to do before I go out of town this weekend; I’m weary from of all the obsessive preparation. I get to the point where, if I have something coming up that I need to plan for, I will fixate on it until every last minute detail has been covered. I have a list of what to pack (and when to pack it; some things are perishable, you see) which is separate from my list of things to do before I leave. The lists started on Monday, and each successive day the things that were not accomplished were pushed back until the following day; it’s like I need to be extra-organized to compensate for the total lawlessness of this weekend.

Man, I can’t wait. I have needed a vacation for the longest time, and even if I can only manage a few days, I will absolutely relish an entire weekend with nothing to do. No work. No people. No laundry. No Starbucks. No Mom’s house, no my house, but somewhere I can still be comfortable and get some good ol’ fashioned relaxing in. And really, there’s no better place for that than Grama’s house.

Does everyone have a Grama’s House? I know they do, obviously, but does it carry the same connotation of midday naps, swimming in the pool and overeating starchy food? It’s that place where you still behave like you’re seven, even though you’ve been well above drinking age for some time. The visits are different than when you were a kid, but somehow end up the same; you can now drive the two-hour distance all by yourself, but you still fall asleep watching Lucy episodes on the living room couch. It’s a balance of youth and maturity, with the switch constantly flipping up and down. The best thing is that your time is your own. The only thing on your schedule is dinner; otherwise, you are free to entertain yourself however you please—and I have a big stack of library books a’callin’ my name. That is, after I get back from buying new clothes at the cheap mall. Saturday is going to Rock. Out.

Gram is having her second Lasik surgery on Wednesday (they can only do one eye at a time), so she’ll be blind-ish for a few days, hence, the need for us long-suffering working stiffs to skive off our weekend jobs and hang out with her. My aunt went up there yesterday, and I’m sure we can all prepare a fantastic Easter feast between our five functional eyes. Gram’s incredibly chill about the surgery (she’s 75, people; It’d freak me right out); I guess the first eye was pretty easy to get over, and the thought of having 20/20 vision is pretty appealing. It will be so weird to see her without glasses—more appropriately, that she can see me without glasses. She called me up after the first eye healed to tell me how it went.

GRAM: It’s hard to watch TV with the new eye.*

ME: Why? Can’t you see better with it?

GRAM: Oh, yeah, but only on this one side. The other one is still fuzzy, so I can see close up with the bad eye, and then far away with the good one.

ME: They should give you an eyepatch or something, for the two weeks between visits.

GRAM: It’s really funny. I’ve been doing crossword puzzles with the one eye and watching soaps with the other.

ME: Um, does the new eye go in a different direction? (brief hallucinations of the Electric Grandmother)

GRAM: No, I just switch off using them.

ME: How?

GRAM: I cover one up to do the paper, then cover the other to watch TV.

I pause here, because you have to. When your grandmother tells you she’s been living her everyday life with a hand over one eye, like John Cleese planning to climb the two peaks of Kilimanjaro, for two weeks—you have to just take a minute and picture it. The dog must think she’s gone crazy.

ME: Do you still have your glasses?

GRAM: Oh, yah.

ME: Why don’t you poke one of the lenses out?

GRAM: See, that’s what your mother said.

ME: Well?

GRAM: I should. I should do that. I’m just afraid I’ll break them.

ME: Um…

GRAM: I mean break the frame, you know.

ME: Well, in two weeks you won’t need them at all anymore.

GRAM: I know.

ME: So… get the hammer.

GRAM: I will. I should do that.

ME: Yes. OK.

GRAM: Maybe I’ll use my old pair, though.

ME: …why?

GRAM: Well, I hate to ruin my new ones.

I know.

I am super-psyched about this weekend. Unfortunately, I have to tackle Thursday List to get there (pack, get gas, take out trash, pluck eyebrows).

*I know. The eye isn’t new. This is why I love Gram.


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