That's how it all started. One day, I picked up the newspaper and started to read the words that seemed tinier and blurrier than the day before. Just one day passed and I couldn't read comfortably without extending my arms way out, holding the paper way away from me, just like old people do.
Yes, old people. So I picked up a pair of dime store eyeglasses bearing the "prescription" 1.00 (whatever that means). But it helped immensely. I could see again and read comfortably without the arm extension or the inevitable squinting. Aaaahhhh.
Quickly enough I progressed to a 1.25 magnification and was on my way up the aging ladder, leaping up the rungs a little too nimbly. I started looking forward to visiting off-the-beaten-path book stores and five and tens, hoping to find a neat, quirky pair of "readers." I've acquired a certain talent in being able to scope out stores that would sell reading glasses that didn't look like your grandmother's Foster Grants.
The glasses seem to be multiplying. They are strewn all over my house, in critical locations. You see, there is a real fear that I won't be able to read something at a crucial moment, like how much medicine to give my kids (teaspoon or more!) or the serial number on the back of the faulty printer while the impatient technician is on the phone.
I asked my son if he could remember a time when I didn't need the drug store glasses. Of course, he said no. To be honest, sadly, neither can I.
Yes, old people. So I picked up a pair of dime store eyeglasses bearing the "prescription" 1.00 (whatever that means). But it helped immensely. I could see again and read comfortably without the arm extension or the inevitable squinting. Aaaahhhh.
Quickly enough I progressed to a 1.25 magnification and was on my way up the aging ladder, leaping up the rungs a little too nimbly. I started looking forward to visiting off-the-beaten-path book stores and five and tens, hoping to find a neat, quirky pair of "readers." I've acquired a certain talent in being able to scope out stores that would sell reading glasses that didn't look like your grandmother's Foster Grants.
The glasses seem to be multiplying. They are strewn all over my house, in critical locations. You see, there is a real fear that I won't be able to read something at a crucial moment, like how much medicine to give my kids (teaspoon or more!) or the serial number on the back of the faulty printer while the impatient technician is on the phone.
I asked my son if he could remember a time when I didn't need the drug store glasses. Of course, he said no. To be honest, sadly, neither can I.
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