I've got my eye on you

Slept badly. Up at 6.45 and did some work. Then I was off to the optometrist with Ottawacker Jr. for his annual eye exam and for my own check up. All well. The dream of being a pilot lasts for another year. His, that is, not mine. I’m still more myopic than a mole, but stable.
 
Driving Ottawacker Jr. back to school, I had to pull over because the school was calling to see where he was. Or rather, an automated call was calling to ask me where he was. This was despite the fact that Mrs. Ottawacker had emailed the school, called the office, and emailed the teacher – and Ottawacker Jr, had told his teacher the day before. The “new, upgraded, and easy-to-use absence hotline” was also not working. You could register your child as being absent – but not as missing an hour of school for an appointment. Another way Ontario’s Conservatives are helping us.
 
This, of course, as you might imagine, pissed me off a little bit. As I sat by the side of the road trying to hit “1” to speak to a person (and failing), I suddenly had a “fuck it” moment. As in, “fuck it, we’re going for breakfast”. So, instead of going home via school and dropping Ottawacker Jr. off, we went to school via Tim Hortons, where I purchased two bacon and egg wraps. That’ll teach them to piss around with me.
 
Having been convinced not to go into the school office to share my feelings when I dropped Ottawacker Jr. off, I went home and called them instead. There I got the inevitable “yes, Mr. Ottawacker, I know, we didn’t want the system either, we’re spending more time putting things right than we spent entering absences,” so I hung up and got back to work.
 
Work was then stopped by my need to go to the doctor’s for a check up. Having now got a doctor, he seems keen to keep me on his books, and so had called me in to go over blood results, etc. He’s a decent sort, but he does have the stubbiest, widest little fingers. For a man over 50, this is an important consideration, and when I heard the “slap” of a latex glove being donned, I knew the afternoon was going to take a turn for the worse. After a cursory feel of my testicles (he didn’t seem that interested, to be honest), the main event started.
 
“I’ve put on some lube,” he said, before doing his worst with what should have been his middle finger. I say “should” because for all I know, it could have been a week-old baguette. The worst moment came when he told me he couldn’t reach my prostate. “It is up there,” I gasped, before submitting to more assaults from a stale loaf. “I had a colonoscopy not that long ago,”… And then, “Got it!” Apologising profusely, he told me it was slightly enlarged but no more than was normal for a man of my age. The day kept on getting better.