A Truth About Glasses

Over on one of my most-frequented websites, Robert Brockway has written a piece about 5 great joys in life that healthy people never experience. I really liked it, so you should go check it out. Check it out and then come back, I'll wait.

Yup, I'll just wait right here.

Wait while you finish that article and then find another link on that page that catches your attention.

Wait until you finish that article and then find yet another link on that new page that catches your attention.

Wait until you realize my blog is still open in your browser tabs and begrudgingly look back it it.

Glad you came back! I swear, I won't keep you long and then you can go right back to Cracked.

The article I linked mentions the moment when you get a pair of new glasses and then you look at things and feel like you are seeing them for the first time. Specifically, you see ALL of the leaves on the trees. Or you see the way a person looks when they smile and you know right away that it's a smile and you don't have to rely on contextual clues to figure out if it's a smile or a grimace or a squirrel on his face.

It really is a joyful feeling that does help to make up for the fact that when I take my glasses off at the end of the day, I'm back to wondering what words on the TV several feet away from me say. Or if there's a bug in my room or if it's just a shadow.

Speaking of bugs in my room, this morning is a great example of why glasses suck more than they are awesome. Like most, if not all, people with glasses, I remove them to take a shower. The problem is, once I remove my glasses, any shadow on the wall could be a bug.

So I circumvent this as best I can by inspecting the bathroom and shower area before I take off my glasses. I'm not even kidding. My routine in the morning is to wake up, put on my glasses, go into the bathroom, and check for bugs. Typically I start with a glance at the ceiling, then the walls, then the floor, and then the shower. I'll pull the shower curtain back and check the walls of the shower. And I'm not stupid - I don't forget to shake the shower curtain to make sure no bugs are hiding behind it, nestled into the relative "hiding" spot between the curtain and the tub wall.

I'd say it's safe to say I find a bug maybe once every other month? Every third month?

You might think that my shower clearing routine is a waste of time, but I beg to differ. If you don't need glasses, or maybe just need them for reading or distances, you might not be able to understand the sheer terror of seeing something that MAY or MAY NOT be a bug but there's no way to tell unless it is about 2 feet in front of you. Especially when you are showering.

That's why this morning, my girlish screams woke my husband up as a sort of back-up snooze button. I woke up, put on my glasses, faithfully did my bathroom bug test, and then took off my glasses.

SOMETHING hit my shoulder and then flew to the ground. This something was big, black and roughly the size of a palmetto bug.

Instantly my brain began to remember a million things, like the fact that palmetto bugs are big, and black and apparently can fly and - OH - apparently this one FLEW into my shoulder. It lay on the floor in wait, and I started shrieking and backing towards the door.

Smiley was sitting up in bed, looking at me as I flung open the door and fled the bathroom.

"Everything, uh, ok?" he asked.

"I think there's a bug; it flew into me," I said slowly, all the while keeping my gaze attached to that black spot. But before I could tell him he had to kill it for me, I noticed something.

You see, in an effort to avoid having to brush out my hair in the mornings, I typically braid my hair before going to bed. The hair tie I had used the night before was a black tie that I had loosely wrapped around the bottom of the braid. And I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that the hair tie was no longer at the bottom on my braid, which had came slightly undone in my frantic terror.

"Oh," I said. "Uh." I have a way with words, as you know.

Again, my brain started to realize things very quickly. Like, how the feeling of a bug hitting my shoulder could have been the hair tie slipping off as I got ready for my shower. And how then it could have appeared to "fly" across the small bathroom. And how from my vantage point of five feet some inches away from the ground and glasses-free, it could have looked like a bug.

I bravely moved towards the hair tie that could still totally be a bug.

I'll save you the suspense - it was my hair tie.