In regard to my eyesight (which is awful), I finally have a number that will translate.  I’ve historically told my prescription in diopters, but that doesn’t make sense to most people (it’s around -9.25, but that’s with my astigmatism).  My most recent visit to the eye doctor finally provided me with the magic numbers the rest of you utilize: 20/7400.  Yep.  That means that if you can see something at 7,400 feet away, I have to be 20 feet away to see it.  7,400 feet is almost a mile and a half.  Crazy, right?  So now you know: my eyesight really is bad.

I need to quit trying to talk to most men about, well, anything of substance.  I get so riled up when they assume their privileged “I have a penis” status.  I hate-hate-hate how so many men act that way.  They over-shadow, bully, talk-over, gang-up, are just plain jerks who know everything.  Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about.  I’m so sick of it.

I’m tired of being poor.  But I know I have several more years ahead of me.  Perhaps the rest of my life.  I do finally have a retirement plan: I’ll just move overseas somewhere cheap and join the local expat retiree community.  It’s certainly not a bad plan.

Oh lands. I need friends down here.  But other than attending church, I can’t figure out how to find any.  And I’m really not interested in going to church, considering I hate it.

Bah.

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