Has anyone seen my stupid glasses?

Today marks the second monday in four months that I've missed my ritualistic ultimate frisbee pickup game. It's one of those days where a bunch of little annoyances attack your plans at the same time, and even though any one of them alone could be crushed, their superior numbers cause you to throw in the towel for the time being. It's probably for the better that I'm sitting here, waiting for my former roommate Dan to drop by and pick up the gigantic stack of with his name on it that has piled up this summer. He got three important looking pieces of mail from the federal student loan office; I hope those weren't as important as they might seem.
And then there's my sprained shoulder. Have you ever been completely focused on some activity, and just totally misjudge where the ground is? That was me a week ago. I don't recommend it to anyone without Wolverine-like healing ability. The whole ordeal could have been worse, I guess. I completely landed on my clavicle (or something) and heard a pop, but just assumed that since I didn't feel like screaming I didn't break anything and was just imagining stuff. Foolishness. It hurt soooooo bad the next day, I decided to see a doctor and get it x-rayed. It was mostly a lot of this stuff:
Doctor: Does it hurt when I do this?
Me: No.
Doctor: Does it hurt when I do this?
Me: No.
Doctor: Does it hur-
Me: AIEEEEE!!!!!
To top off my list of minor grievances against life is how lost my glasses are. I would pay at least 30 million turkish lira to get those back. I've been wearing contacts since I lost them two weeks ago, and my eyes are starting to complain a lot. I was about to put my contacts this morning when I looked in the mirror and saw how bloodshot my right eye was, and how that followed considering that there was a blatantly obvious stinging sensation coming from right about there too. At that point, it goes against all sense to put something into an eye that looks like that.
Dude(tte)s, if there's one thing blogs do well it's giving you a license to complain. I don't think I would have gone off like this in conversation, but it's so simple and probably freeing, or something, to make people know about all the non-physical things that I wish would become physical things so I could drag them up to the top of Oak street ramp and throw them over the edge.