Kathleen McCall:
Occasional�� Muse�

2001-12-27 - 4:27 p.m.

Four-Eyes

My eyeglasses are missing this morning.

My eyeglasses are missing, they've gone to the place with all the socks and that one pink moccasin and BF's earring, so I'm writing because that's one of the things I CAN do without my eyes.

Do you wear glasses? Then you know how frustratingly crippling it is NOT to have them. Or maybe you don't know. Maybe you have a nice case where you keep them on your nightstand, and if they're not on your face they're always right there next to your bed, along with the novel you were reading, neatly marked with a bookmark since you would NEVER think of using a ripped envelope or putting a book down on its face. You probably have a sleep mask, too. I don't think I like you.

This whole thing has made me terribly cross. Can you tell?

I have had a lifelong love/hate relationship with my eyeglasses. I wish I didn't wear them; I wish I had been wealthy enough to go for the laser surgery in my twenties (when it wasn't available.) Actually, I just say that, because I would never have the bravery to have surgery that involves staying awake and holding your eyes open while they cut on them, but it IS a nice thought. No glasses. Opening the dishwasher with impunity. Buying a dozen pair of cheap drugstore sunglasses and wearing them any time you want and not caring if you accidentally sit on them because you left them on the seat of the car. Freedom.

But I haven't had that since I was twelve. I wear glasses. Well, I don't really wear them, which is the problem; I have to have them for driving and watching movies, but I can't use them for reading or using the computer. So they're on and off all day long, and I set them down, and if I had a sleep mask I would probably lose that too. But I can almost always lay hands on them within a few minutes - there are likely places. Today, they are not in any of the likely places. They are not in any of the unlikely places, either. They are so totally and completely gone that I'm wincing remembering the bags of Christmas trash we took out to the dumpster, and wondering. No, no, no, let it not be so. Don't let me have thrown away hundreds of dollars of vision. I need my eyes.

Okay. Serenity. "I believe if I am meant to have my glasses they will come to me. I accept the universal plan even though I cannot see it." Yeah, that didn't feel very sincere. I can't see the freakin' plan because I DON'T HAVE MY EYEGLASSES. And I am NOT serene.

So what IS the plan here, Universe? Heya? Am I supposed to try contact lenses again, Universe? You know my eyes are too dry for that. Besides, I hated finding out what I looked like in the shower, and I'll bet that hasn't gotten any better in the past twenty years. You can't want to put me through THAT again.

You want me to clean my entire house so I can find things in it? Yeah? What's with THAT? I haven't noticed any larger houses falling into MY lap lately, and if you want this place cleaned you better talk to the people who own all that Barbie crap in the living room. Besides, that's a lifelong commitment, not a one-day project, and I need my glasses TODAY.

Maybe you want me to stop driving. Now THAT could be it. Car smacked by a bus, car finally repaired and then starts having engine trouble, glasses missing on the very morning it's due into the shop for repairs. We have a theme here, don't we? Is that it? That can't be it. You wouldn't do that to me. Who are you sending to take the kids to school and pick them up? Who are you sending to go to work and pay the mortgage? It must be something else. Okay - talk to me. What IS the plan here?

You know, I think - what I'm picking up here, the Cosmic Universal Message - wait, it's coming through - is that I'm supposed to go back to bed for a few hours. Yes, that's it. Go back to bed and wake up not grumpy and make a fresh start and my glasses will come right to hand. Thank you. I see now. All right, I'm going, I'm going.

Postscript: I interpreted correctly. Got up the second time, started over with a cup of coffee, folded some laundry, and spied the glasses on the shelf of the entertainment center. So if you're puzzling over the meaning of life -- try going back to bed.

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