Through My Glasses, Darkly

I have four pairs of glasses, Well, four that I know of.  There are probably others lurking in dark recesses, shirking their duties, maybe even smirking.  Two of the ones I can locate are prescription bifocals, one regular, and one with the coating that darkens the lenses in sunlight.  So far the ‘polychromatic’ lenses have proven useless because we have barely seen the sun around here since the end of March.  The other day I heard the song “Here Comes The Sun” and the White House immediately condemned it as fake news.  

The other two pairs currently in circulation are just readers, available at any drugstore, department store, dermatologist or tree surgeon.  I try to keep the readers in the house, conveniently placed so I can use them to read.  Yeah, right.

Anyone over thirty living in the twenty-first century knows that eyeglasses migrate.  There is a rumor that they elope with the sox that go missing from your drier, but I don’t believe that.  Clearly, sox are snobbish and would not wish to share their alternate universe with something as prosaic as eyeglasses.  Glasses simply sneak around by themselves.  Logical people swear that this is not true, but they don’t even try to explain how they end up somewhere other than where they were put.  I don’t know if they flip, slide, swim, roll, slither or transport, I only know that they relocate when no one is looking.

Today for example… at least one of the bifocals is supposed to be in the car, for distance when driving.  I don’t need the readers in the car because I don’t usually read while I am driving.  Almost never.  The readers are supposed to be in the house, as I mentioned, so I can use them to read, because I don’t generally drive the car in the house.  Again, almost never.  So today, somehow, both pairs of readers were in the car and both pairs of bifocals were in the house. I think they’re just screwin’ with me now.

To paraphrase Steve Martin,” I gotta get a pair of eyeglass leg irons, and I gotta get ‘em quick!”