Tragedy and Revelation

Category: This is My Life

Sure ‘nuff that fearful thing I’ve dreaded since the moment I sat down in the optometrist’s chair has come to pass. I was able to stave it off for nearly three years. (Three years? Already? Are you serious?) Then, two days ago the chain that I use to hang my reading glasses about my neck, even though I know these chains are clearly categorized with Bill Cosby’s “idiot mittens”, you know that little rubber piece that goes around the ear piece on your glasses, well, it broke, and instead of waiting outside the store where I bought it at ten minutes to opening yesterday morning to get it repaired, I wrote for awhile, got dressed, did my morning thing, picked up our apartment, chased dirty dishes, and set my glasses down. Somewhere.

I’ve checked the refrigerator, I’ve checked inside the coffee canister, both my desks, under the sofa, under my pillow, the ironing board, the bathtub, the laundry basket and all my purses even though they were a long shot. I checked the balcony, the table by the grill, the kitchen table, the ironing board again because I thought for sure I had seen them there earlier, but they weren’t so I checked my desks too, both of them. Again.

Distraution? Distraughtness? Distraughtability? Distraughtification? Are those words? They should be, because that is exactly what set in the minute I realized that I have no idea where those naughty critters might be. I chased around our apartment all-in-all seven times yesterday afternoon and maybe it’s not huge, I still needed a nap, being as how it is one of the remaining things a girl can do without her reading glasses.

I can see alright, even if everything within reading distance is a bit blurry and I have to guess at some of the words and I’m right in the middle of Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom, which as you might know is, at least page wise, a sassy answer to Infinite Jest. Yes, now that you ask, I do still read books in their quaint form. Yes, I know I wouldn’t have to worry about my glasses if I would join the twenty-first century and read them digitally. I’m sure I would just lauhvve it, darlink, yes of course I would but, no, I don’t intend to buy a kindle just because I can’t find my damn glasses. Thank you for asking.


I can now confirm that all my words live in the tip of my nose, because without my glasses applying a light pressure there I’ll never write again. Excluding this post, of course.

I’m really having a devil of a time.

This is a full-scale whale fail.

sniff. sniff.