Superwife wakes us all up early. Ms. Pikachu did not finish her peanut butter cup last night. It is now covered with ants. The ants know good chocolate when they see it. Or feel it. Or whatever it is ants do. The kids smash well-fed ants. We go swimming. Who’d a thunk?

Then we head back to Rochester. I say, “Why don’t we eat at the IHOP over there?” It’s only a block away. Ms. Pikachu said she wanted to eat there last night when we drove by. Silence. Okay, fine. Drive on.

By the time we get to Rochester everybody is hungry. Superwife decides to pull into a Golden Corral. We like buffets. Everybody can find something they like, and then gorge themselves like the good Romans we aren’t.

While we’re eating I notice Trainboy is drinking brown gravy by sucking it through a straw. I say, “I’m sure I’ve never seen anybody drink gravy through a straw before.” The Superwife replies, “He really likes gravy.” Trainboy is pleased, “Well, you’ve seen it now.” Yeah, he showed his old dad a thing or two.

We get back to Mayo, and I see the eye doctor, whose name I don’t remember either. Forgetting names is nothing personal for me, I just usually don’t remember them. In contrast the wife never forgets them. Which is why when the doctors ask me questions, she usually answers.

The chairs in the waiting area are lined up side by side and they're covered in a grey vinyl. This is not the neuro area at all. You can see the reasoning- neuro makes them lots of money, neuro gets the best of everything. The optic area is not a money maker selling glasses, they don't invest a lot of money there. At least that's the way I'm calling it.

The eye doctor turns down the lights. He’s wearing a hat with a light on it, kind of like a coal miner. He tilts my chair back. I tell him I’m suddenly flashing on a prior alien abduction experience. Not even a smile. This guy is so sedate he’s probably getting pharmaceutical help. Or maybe he’s a believer. I dunno.

Then we’re done and it’s time to head for home. Dr. Uhm had told us he would call Tuesday. If we don’t hear from him, we’re to call him Wednesday. Alrighty, it's a plan.