But no way am I wearing the funky, funky eyepatch.
Last night, on the way home from The Super Spectacular Funtime that was the Maker Faire, I had a baffling visual SNAFU that kind of made me want to pull over but mostly made me hyperaware of my pristine driving record and how that doesn't translate into flying privileges, dammit.

This morning, things are even odder: my right pupil is dilated to about three times the diameter of my left. I look like a bifurcated Keane lemur. It's kind of cute, but kind of looks like the result of Wes Boreland and Marilyn Manson's most vehemently denied yet epic lost weekend.
I could dress it up, take it out, and start a new trend, perhaps get it in the lexicon of steampunk haberdashers [poised for world domination in 10... 9... 8...]. But I could also turn super clumsy, somewhat addled, and survival-mode-cranky in not-just-public-but-in-the-company-of-several-fabulous-supergeniuses.
So I'm staying home. Phooey.