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Damned public transport

For the better part of last week I had the quote–unquote–sarcasm “wonderful” experience of having my orbital sockets filled with kitty litter. Well, maybe not kitty litter exactly, but my eyes felt incredibly dry and scratchy; and for that entire week I hadn’t the slightest notion of why. Was I over–tired? Was the up–before–noon daily grind taking its toll in the worst possible way? Had my cat found a weakness in my impenetrable bedroom defenses and come to slumber upon my forehead at night? Boggling. Truly boggling.

Weekend came, and suddenly my eyes were feeling better again. They had moisture of their own, and suddenly blinking wasn’t a chore akin to tearing apart velcro strips anymore. The key, it seems, was university; but what facet of that daily experience could be behind such new devilry?

Today, the first of a new week, heralded the answer: the bus.

These last couple of weeks I’ve been experimenting with a hybrid mode of transport to and from that dubiously cheerful educational institution; a combination of automobile and omnibus that, according to my spreadsheets and napkin–based calculations, would save me both time and money in my commute. The real price, it would seem, is in my eyeballs; and today they’re back to their itchy–scratchy selves again. But neither communism nor global warming is to blame here… it’s air conditioning. Yes, just as those women’s facial cleanser commercials have claimed, the combination of winter chill, central heating, and air conditioning can dry your skin like so many Deni Home Food Dehydrators. The recycled breath of a thousand passengers before you is blowing you right in the face… and it’s trying to take your sight.

If only I had some goggles.