Glasses, the Bane of My Existence

Blogger erased a post, in addition to two insightful comments on the dreariness of winter and the diabolical tendencies of a groundhog. I am henceforth going to make an attempt to recreate that post, because I'd really like to share the information. For the sake of entertainment, please assume that the original post was by far more clever, informative, and well-written. Feel free to complain to blogger, after all, you're the ones missing out--I know all this stuff.

So, I wear glasses. This is a problem. For those of you who do not have the displeasure, allow me to explain. Imagine, if you will, that you have fallen asleep reading. Not so out of the ordinary, is it? And hell, it's not like you've got to be anywhere for an hour at least. So you sleep, only to awaken to find your glasses embedded in the side of your head. Extraction takes a while, but the footprint of the frame stays with you for hours.

Imagine getting into a hot tub, weighing your options: you can take off your glasses and be blind, or you can leave them on and be blinded by the fog formed on the lenses. Should you weep in despair, it will not help.

Or, imagine that you're driving, barely on time for an urgent appointment--say to catch the last bus that will get you to school on time--and you realize you cannot see the street signs. You have forgotten your glasses, and have actually driven two blocks without realizing that you are blind as a bat. You've had glasses since you were twenty, but you have yet to admit this to yourself. You are not one with the glasses.

Anyhow, this is actually a direct lead-in to the next problem: Imagine now that you have by the grace of god made it home safely and can now retrieve your glasses. Unfortunately you do not have your glasses on. So you cannot see your glasses. Ever heard the term "hiding in broad daylight"? This is where it came from.

So you can imagine my elation when I finally made the appointment. I am going to have the surgery. I am going to have a slice taken right off the top of each eyeball. They call it lasik, I call it temporary torture. Ophthalmologists are just sadists who have channeled their fetish into a socially acceptable and appallingly lucrative form of torment. But just think, in about twenty-five years, the surgery will have paid for itself when you take into account all the money I would have spent in glasses. When I'm celebrating the break-even point on my silver anniversary, I'll be in the market for reading glasses.