The eye doctor I go to talked me into an extra pair of glasses. A pair that I can wear when I am doing stuff at the computer. A pair that will make the screen and the keyboard both look clear at the same time so I will no longer look like an old duck bobbing over and over again under water for a piece of moss with my tail feathers sticking up into the air, as I navigate while computing. (Now there’s a visual!) A pair that will make my computer and I “simpatico.” A pair that unfortunately—are never by the computer! I had no idea this extra pair of glasses would grow legs and scamper off to various other parts of the house while I am not looking.
Ah, laugh if you will, but some inanimate items have built into them the ability and desire to move about without human assistance. Keys are never where I set them. The cordless phone jumps from its cradle and usually is found hiding somewhere in the deep darkness of the couch cushions. Not to mention the cell phone and its whereabouts! The television remote is always across the room laughing at me. This is not noticed until I sit down. I’ll skip the whereabouts of the second sock, dilemma. Then there is the dishwasher. It is turned on only to find the last plate or bowl or fork or cup has hidden itself behind the sack of chips which should be in the cupboard but has taken up residence on the counter just to be able to harbor the, come late to the party, dirty dish. This doesn’t even touch the scamper and hiding of my eyeglasses, which now is two pair. Swell!
So I have come up with an idea. I will attach one end of a light chain to the computer and the other end to the new computer glasses so that whenever, no matter the time of day or night, I am at the computer so are these new glasses. When I get up from the computer to avoid being hung by the chain, I will have to take off the glasses, leaving them by the computer. Then I can go do whatever it is I am going to do and when I return there they will be. Easy-peasy
This loss of items is not a new revelation. I have been losing glasses for years now. They are never where I leave them. They are always in the farthest place from me when I need them. It’s not like I need them to see. I just need them to see some things close up and then some things far away. And sometimes things at regular distances too. All of which of course adds to my frustration to be able to see where they are when they hide. Bad glasses, bad, bad glasses.
I know that I did not leave my glasses in the crook of the Russian olive tree on the back lawn last summer. There is not a chance in the world that it was me who set my glasses down in the back of the truck while unloading groceries, and then just walk away from them. No way on earth did I hang my sunglasses, which makes three pair to keep track of now, on the side of the dumpster in the yard when taking out the trash? I didn’t leave my glasses setting on the bucket of kitty litter when I cleaned out the cat box. I have no idea how they ended up in the freezer either! See? These are just a few of the spectacles my spectacles are making of themselves.
I have been told by my other half to put my glass orbed spectacles on when I get up and leave them on my face until I go back to bed at night. This may come from the fact that he is the one that has been awarded the job of finding the little wire framed devils when they run and hide. But for some reason I have not gotten used to having them attached to my face constantly. I don’t mind wearing them and I admit that I do see much, much better when I wear them. But there is a hidden force within me that is fighting the stick-to-itive-ness to wear them constantly. There has been, in the past, reference to a snap being inserted into the bridge of my nose to attach said glasses in a more permanent way. I’m pretty sure he is just kidding…
Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Her book ITY BITS can be found on Kindle. Share with her at firstname.lastname@example.org