I own two pairs of prescription reading glasses (yeah, yeah, I know about drug store reading glasses. Own three or four pair. Don't like any of 'em. And, with insurance, prescription glasses wind up costing me less anyway).
Middle of last week I misplaced the good pair and had to make do with the ones with the scratched left lens and the sprawly temple pieces (those I can't wear on top of my head) while I looked in all the places where I typically set glasses down. After enough repeated trips to these spots to garner myself an OCD designation, I began looking in all the what-if spots--the folded newspapers in the recycling bin, the unfolded laundry, the edge of trees on the bank where I empty the water from the Rainbow vacuum cleaner.
I found the binoculars in R.'s room and the field guide to birds behind L.'s computer--both would have come in handy earlier in the week when a hawk of some sort deigned to take water from the sandbox lid L. keeps filled for the backyard birds and squirrels.
I did not find my glasses.
Order another pair, L. said. And while you're at it, call the bank and order another cash machine card (that's been misplaced since the week before Christmas).
I almost called today, but instead I sat down at the computer to see if my friend was home from knee surgery yet and the door by the computer, which usually bumps up against the side of the desk, had swung halfway closed--enough for me to spot my missing glasses.
Claudius must have knocked them off a stack of books on one of his forays across the desk.
Anyway, I apologize for leaving the blog unattended for so long. I've been looking for my stupid glasses, working extra hours at the library, avoiding the heat as much as possible, making day trips to the mountains to overeat and to listen to bluegrass music, and reading, reading, reading.
Book posts will resume tomorrow.
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