I misplaced my reading glasses earlier in the week, which is strange, because my world is so very small-- I haven't been anywhere recently besides over to the dog walker to pick up Lucy each evening. Even so, they were gone, disappeared, nowhere to be found in this little condo despite an exhaustive search of the few possibilities.
Oh, I muddled through, most people of my age have learned to strew their cheaters about, placing a pair of spectacles within easy reach of any location where they may be required. So, yeah, I have extra reading glasses in the kitchen, by my favorite seats in the living room, in the bedside table, and, of course, in the bathrooms. Even so, I missed my Peepers, the ones I purchased because Oprah recommended them, and whose heavy blue frames provided just the right balance of gravitas and levity to my on-camera teaching persona.
So you can imagine how happy I was to hear Heidi call down to me this morning: "I found your glasses!"
"Where were they?" I asked joyfully.
"In the washing machine," she reported.
Now, there's a place I don't usually keep reading glasses, but? Maybe?
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