Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of Wherever I Left My Glasses

One recent morning, I became a grown-up: I attempted to remove glasses from my face that were already in my fist.

For those of you who are lifelong glasses-wearers (it is almost 40 years for me), you know that there are several distinct methods of removing eyeglasses—and, even better, there are several non-verbal messages that can be communicated in the manner of their removal.

Off the top of my head, which is not where I keep my glasses, there is “Two-handed and Thoughtful,” “One-handed and from the Right and Peeved” (I usually accidentally fling my glasses to the floor or across my desk with that one), and “One-handed and from the Left and Trying to (Honestly) Get to the Heart of Things.” There are some others. Putting them on in front of people usually communicates this: “Enough Fun, Everyone. It’s Time to Get Back to Work.”

It can be like semaphore, but not at all and with glasses.

What I performed on the morning that I am telling you about offered such a complete set of mixed messages that I should not have been surprised if someone threw a glass of water at me, thinking I had requested precisely that action. In some cultures, perhaps I had. It would have almost completely relieved me of my red-faced embarrassment.

I do not remember right now which message I was going for this morning, but I was in a public place, which almost always adds zest to everything. What I remember is this: Both hands were heading for my face, so I must have been attempting “Two-handed and Thoughtful” or maybe simply “Pensive,” but like an indecisive ASL translator, when I saw the glasses already in my left hand as they came towards my face, I doubled-down and confused everyone (including me) by improvising this: I scratched my face with the folded-up glasses, moved them from my left hand to my right, opened them, put them on, and then removed them with my left hand—an improvised attempt at “One-handed and Getting to the Heart of Things.” All in about three spastic seconds.

It was all because I was surprised. I was surprised because I simply do not do slightly forgetful things like everyone else does.

Strike that. I do not do slightly forgetful things like everyone else does. That’s better. I believe … (fist hits table) … ladies and gentlemen, I believe deep down where I know me better than anyone else knows me or I know anyone else, that I do not do slightly forgetful things at all ever. Atallever. Misplacing my glasses is something that rests just on this side of a terrible thing.

I had laser surgery in 2014, which transformed me from a wearer of Bible-thick lenses from my teen years until I had the surgery into a far-sighted person who can now wear cheap, dollar-store reading glasses merely for reading (see photo at top; some are three for five dollars). Thus I can leave my house sometimes without glasses. After four decades of glasses-wearing, that sentence reads like someone else describing a life different from mine to me.

Back to me. I do not do slightly forgetful things. Remember? Not me. Not someone so organized that I would arrange my pens alphabetically if I could decide on what issue this would fix or how to do it. (By brand name? Hmmmm. Perhaps.)

Simple, insistent, rigid organization has always prevented me from forgetting things: Keys in the same place every night. Wallet, too. Glasses on my bookshelf. Check, check, and check. And I have left the house minus each one of these items in turn recently. It is as if they have teamed up and are taking turns abandoning me. I need to re-organize the role of organization in my life.

So there it was that morning: Forgettingness in all its vanity-defeating ingloriousness. In all its lapses and gaps. It is exhausting being me. I need a nap. Now, where is my pillow?

* * * *
This first appeared in 2014 and then last summer. This is a re-write. (New jokes.) The photo is from today.

____________________________________________
The WordPress Daily Prompt for August 19 asks us to reflect on the word, “Eyes.”

Follow The Gad About Town on Facebook! Subscribe today for daily facts (well, trivia) about literature and history, plus links to other writers on Facebook.

Follow The Gad About Town on Instagram!

And please visit and participate in the Alterna-Prompt, “The Blog Propellant.”

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Advertisements