Happily

Once upon a time, I had five pairs of glasses. "Five?" you say. Yes, five. I'm not counting the sunglasses, even though they're prescription, too. You see, I knew I had children and that personal belongings would suddenly get up and walk off, settling down in a whole new part of the house, usually in odd nooks and corners that are only visible to persons under 3' tall. I needed to be able to find some sort of glasses, even if they weren't the ones I'd just taken off. I also knew that accidents happen. For example, one of those five pairs of glasses vanished at the side of a rural highway as I stared at my flat tire mere hours before Joseph chipped his tooth. (Yeah, not one of my better days.) That's why I had five pairs, though.

Then came Sweet Little James, the Destroyer of Frames. He's utterly annihilated all but one pair in the last three months, and that one pair is five years old. I'd known I ought to get my prescription updated sometime soon, but now I needed new glasses.

I just got back, and I'm pretty darn happy. Everything looks healthy, my prescription is essentially the same (as the most most recent pair, not what I've been forced to wear for the last month), and I found some cool frames. I got a pale green pair at the optomitrist--they'll be done in a week or so--then wandered off to one of the Done In An Hour places for a 2-for-$ deal. The only pair of pairs I really liked--a simple black wire frame, and a black plastic with bright lime inside and earpiece sparklies--were a little pricier than I would have liked, but I'd budgeted high, anyway, so it was all good. And they're cute.

I won't be leaving them lying around, either.