|Posted by Val Enders on November 22, 2012 at 1:25 PM|
I think I need new glasses. I say this for a number of reasons, but mainly because Hubby says I need new ones, and I have to agree. The other day while we were driving I said to him “For Pete’s sake, look at that! I’ve never seen a Nun on a bicycle taking a dog for a run before.” He just shook his head and laughed. “What’s so funny? I said. “That’s not a Nun,” hubby replied. “It’s a man with a backpack, and he’s not running his dog, he’s pulling a kid in a wagon.” I guess I had better get in for a check up. I was also informed that hubby is “tired” of deciphering the print on my prescription bottles, and reading the how to’s on such things as the shampoo containers and cleaning supplies. Yesterday I wanted to give myself a hair treatment, and I was trying to decode the instructions on the bottle. Of course, there was no way on God’s green earth that I could see the small printing on that label, so naturally I called on hubby’s stellar vision to get me by. “Can you read this?” I asked. “Geez, why don’t you get new glasses?” He said. “I think your vision is getting worse. You need new ones, so you better make yourself an eye appointment, especially after that incident with the bicycling Nun.” “I know I need new glasses,” I replied, “but my plan says I am not due for another year, and I don’t want to pay the whole shot myself. So help me out here all right? Just tell me if I need to leave this stuff on my head for an hour, or if I have to wash it off right away, ok?” “You know you’re turning into your mother don’t you?” he offered up. “What’s that got to do with anything?” I said. “Well, she always carried around that black magnifying glass. Maybe you should consider using it if you don’t get new specks. It wouldn’t hurt. Then I wouldn’t have to read all the labels for you when we go shopping. Sometimes people think you’re illiterate when I have to read stuff to you,” he said. “Look, you don’t expect me to haul around a magnifying glass do you? I can’t find my glasses half the time now, so how do you expect me to find something like that when I need it?” came my response. What a dumb idea. Next thing you know he’ll want me to bring along a pair of binoculars. “By the way,” I add, “Would you please stop referring to me as “Mrs. Magoo”? People are starting to think that’s my real name. Besides, you know that bad eyesight runs in the family. Remember Grandma Lutz? She had to wear glasses that were as thick as coke bottles.” He gives me a pitying look and informs me that Grandma Lutz was ninety-three and even with bad eyes, she could spot a nickel in the ditch from a hundred yards away. “Yeah”, well I’d like to see her read this” I said, handing him the small bottle of conditioner. How could they even print words that small? One font size smaller and it would have to be in Braille. He takes the bottle, and turns it this way and that way. His eyes are squinting, and I can tell by his expression that this is no easy task, even for “Mr. Twenty-twenty”. He moves over to get better light, but that doesn’t seem to help. “Wait a minute,” he says, “I’ll be right back.” Sure enough, he returns carrying Ma’s magnifying glass, and moving it up and down over the label, manages to read the tiny print. I head over to the phone. “Hey! Where are you going?” He says. “I’m making eye appointments, what day is good for you?” Secretly I’m hoping that there’ll be a “Buy one, get one free” sale on glasses. Guess who’s got dibs on the ‘free’ one?
Categories: Editorials published on Northern Star