Dear Kid,
Did I tell you about the Great Eyeglass Catastrophe of 2018?
It’s awful–if you have tears prepare to shed them.
As you know, my glasses belong in one of two places: in front of my eyes so I can read, or on top of my head so I can put them in front of my eyes when I need to read.
Either way, they’re handy.
Both as a vision enhancement device and as a headband.
Because I’ve worn them like this for so long, I have a heightened sense of loss when they aren’t on top of my head (like when I first wake up in the morning). So I don’t worry about them going missing. Because they don’t. Ever.
Until this past Sunday.
I was gardening, the Puppy was sleeping, the mourning dove was building a nest, and all was well with the world. Until I went inside, and discovered that my glasses
were missing.
Gone.
Not there.
I searched. I enlisted Dad in the search.
I looked inside.
I looked outside.
I looked through the garbage.
I looked through the recycling bin.
I went back over all the places I’d been. (Now you know why Dr. Seuss never wrote a book about losing a pair of glasses.)
I just kept assuming they’d show up.
Meanwhile I started wearing a pair of drugstore readers which do almost as little for my vision as they do for my fashion sense. I made an appointment to see the eye doctor.
And continued to whine about it.
So last night after dinner, Dad said he would search again. He went to the car and looked. He went to the backyard and searched. He got a rake and hunted thoroughly.
And eventually he found them.
But not exactly in the condition I’d last seen them.
I’m pretty sure I somehow lost them in the grass. Right before Dad mowed.
Did I mention I have an appointment to see the eye doctor?
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