My eyes have been doing strange things for the past couple years. Store bought ‘readers’ solved the problem up until recently. Once the blurred vision and headaches started, it became more difficult to put off going to the eye doctor. It’s not that I’m afraid of doctors, it’s just that visiting them takes up so much time. Time I’d really rather being doing something else with.
But the other day, I had a thought. Imagine! If I keep screwing with my eyes, there could be something wrong I don’t know about. And if it gets worse, someday I might not be able to read. That one thought stopped me cold. I actually thought about it. A world where I wouldn’t be able to read the letters printed in ink on the pages of a book collection I’ve tended and grown lovingly over the years. Or worse yet, flip pages with the touch of a button on my ereader without changing the font to extra-large. Okay, insert vain here. I tried the extra-large font already. Needless to say, this wild imagining got me on the phone for an appointment, and then got my dumb ass to the vision clinic, pronto.
So, yeah, I’ve got to wear glasses now. They should arrive in about ten days. I’m thrilled. My eyes are healthy, just not as young as they used to be. I guess that means they match the rest of me. How does that song go? ‘I ain’t as good as I once was…’
