Self-Inflicted Stupidity (February 1999)

I turned my head to look at something the other day and heard a rattle. Shook my head, and I heard it again. Narrowing down the possibilities, I crossed off earrings and was left with either brain or eyeglasses. Turned out to be the eyeglasses, which I clean each and every morning. (You can get FREE refills of that lens cleaning stuff at Wal-Mart.) Thought I’d investigate and the next morning gave them a thorough cleaning. (I got new glasses back in November. I’m finally getting used to them. They’re completely round and make me look either like John Lennon, or that man who sells Dodge vans on TV. I was talked into them mostly because they were the only style frame that had clip on sun glasses and room enough for my no-line bifocals.)

So there I am in front of the bathroom mirror cleaning the lenses and wondering why the rattle. The little nose pads were firmly in place. Then the right lens moved! Ah-HA! So it was the lens, was it? Just to be sure, I tried to see if it would move again. At the moment it slid clockwise, the little voice inside my head asked if trying to move the round lens in the round frame was a good idea. At the moment the lens spun around like a cheap roulette wheel, I answered the little voice with a “probably not.” By then, of course, it was too late.

In a panic, I tried to move the lens back again. Naturally, it wouldn’t budge. Standing there with my glasses off I couldn’t see how much damage I had actually done. Those no-line bifocals are pretty slick. You really can’t see where the close up part melts into the far away part. So, I put them on. It’s amazing how fast one can become nauseated from ocular stimulation.

From what I could tell, I had managed to turn the right lens so that my bifocal was now focused on my right armpit. Not a good thing. Dialing with one eye shut, I managed to reach DeltaVision and explain the situation. After the receptionist stopped laughing she told me to come in. Easier said than done.

On the big streets I drove without the glasses. On the little streets I put them on and held my hand over my right eye, saluting the few oncoming vehicles I encountered. When I got into the parking lot, I needed both hands on the wheel, so I just screwed up my face and shut my right eye. It actually worked out pretty well. An older gentleman waved me into a parking space right by the door and winked back! Small consolation for being the entertainment du jour.

I am now visually readjusted and very thankful.
(c) 1999 by Ami Simms.