Bone dry. That's what my eyes are these days. I've got a criss-cross interstate maze of capillaries that makes me look like I've been smoking something (but not inhaled) or that I haven't slept in a week or so. Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes! That order would have made me a hero at Bunker Hill had I been in the British ranks that day.
But I digress.
I think my eyes are getting dry because the plugs that were installed in my tear ducts need to be replaced. These apparently prevent my tears from draining too quickly; analogous to when the kids flush half a roll of toilet paper to see what happens. The thought makes me squeamish. Funny, because years ago, I was a daily contact wearer, and poking around my eyeballs was a common ritual. In fact, had there been an itch, I probably wouldn't have thought twice about scratching my orbits with the tip of a pencil. Hey now, that's dangerous, you may say. Please, I'm not stupid -- pencils these days are made of graphite, so no fear of lead poisoning there.
Made the call though, plug reinstall set for July 5.