"That wasn't a sign for you to jump on my lap."

iPody the iPod was resurrected at the Apple store on Wednesday much to my relief. Declared healthy if a little shaken up, I felt bad for prematurely declaring its death. The bonus of the whole situation was that the Apple technician put the new White Stripes album on my iPod as a test to see if it could handle music upload. Score. I heart free music.

So let's rewind to my Saturday exploring the hidden public gardens of the East Village. Well one of them had some poison ivy in it. Poison ivy in New York city? Yes. Or something like it because my supposed mosquito bites began to blister and form a rash. And since this exposure to poison ivy coincided with my bloodshot left eye, I felt more inclined to go see a doctor about it.

On Tuesday I left work about 11 am to head over to the New York Ear and Eye Infirmary. It took a half hour just to get though the Soviet like line to get registered. Then it took another hour just to wait for someone to take my blood pressure and check my eyesight. Then it was back down to the Soviet line to pay my co-pay and fill out some paper work. Then it was back to wait 45 minutes for the doctor to see me and dilate my pupils. This all took about four hours. Fun. The doctor failed to warn me that everything would seem 15 thousand times brighter than normal so that upon exiting the building and into the bright mid afternoon sun, I felt like I was staring into a spotlight -- arms flung up to my face, cowering like a vampire caught outside on the sun soaked corner of Second Avenue and 14th Street.

And after all that ordeal, all I had for my trials was a prescription for eye drops and crazy, scary pupil eyes.