I got a package from my Mama in the mail today. Inside the package was ten pouches of Starbucks instant coffee which equals about 60 cups of coffee, and the bra, flat-iron and Philosophy perfume I left at her house when I visited last month. No card or note or nothing. Now I'm grateful as hell that she sent me my shit. Especially that bra and coffee. But I've talked to her before about at least dropping me a post-it or something. A quickly scrawled "I Love You, Love Mom". That's all I'm asking for. Well, that and my damn bra. I don't know why that bothers me so much but it do.
Went to the eye doctor today and I'm getting blinder. They dilated and numbed my eyeballs, so then driving home afterward I had to drive with one hand on the wheel and the other practically covering my eyes like I was playing peek-a-boo with the traffic. My pupils are the size of Oreos.