So I lost my glasses. Which sucks because a) I'm so blind I practically have to touch noses with you if I want to see your face clearly (which can lead to a lot of unintentional making out)(sorry about that McDonalds drive-thru guy), and b) because I have contacts, but when I get home I like to wear glasses because they make me feel smarter when I'm studying. Sure, I can study in contacts, but that's like studying in stilettos and a t-shirt you claim is a dress, but it's not really a dress, it's really just a button-up shirt you thought was one of your ex-boyfriend's but really you don't date anyone who wears button-up shirts on a regular basis, except it looks totally familiar and smells really familiar, and then you remember why it's in your closet and why it's so familiar, because your dad used to wear it as his weekend shirt, and thank God because you couldn't remember dating anyone who wore Old Spice, because no one wants to date someone who smells like their dad, unless your dad is Hugh Laurie, in which case I do want to date someone who smells like him, and who will then play doctor with me because I've got something undiagnosable that only Dr. House can deal with, something we ultimately decide is called make-me-pancakes-and-then-make-out-with-me-like-high-schoolers-who-aren't-ready-to-have-sex-yet-but-are-ready-to-french-until-our-lips-are-swollen-and-our-chins-are-bright-red-itis.
I love his hobble and his sassy attitude.
Anyway, so I got home last night (after refusing to pay $400 for new glasses) (FOUR HUNDRED. Are you kidding me? I mean, I know I'm blind but this is not a space mission I'm getting ready for. I don't need bulletproof lenses, I need something that will allow me to see if my sister is smiling or frowning when I do my I-made-nachos dance. Because it'll determine whether or not I share my nacho goodness.) and I feel totally lost. And helpless. Like, this must be what torture feels like. Taking away someone's clear vision and making them try to watch an episode of Cougar Town with their nose pressed up against the screen, rolling it back and forth to follow Courtney Cox's boobs as she bounces to and fro, because for some reason she does a ton of bouncy moves on that show.
So then I tore my house apart and found some old glasses from like 6 years ago, that I put on and it was like camping in heaven. Not staying at some swanky heaven hotel with room service and a double-headed shower, but somewhere in the outskirts of heaven where you can set up your tent without it collapsing on you in the middle of the night. It felt nice to have my contacts out is what I'm trying to say. I mean, I still couldn't see very well considering the glasses were like eight prescriptions behind, and the right lens coating was all peeling off and sort of bubbly like a messed up tint job on car windows, so I had to kind of squint through that eye, and rely on my left eye to compensate and then revert back to it's better vision of 2001, and hope that I didn't fall over from being too dizzy.
Crystal just kind of watched the whole thing happen with the sort of curiosity I lend her when she's licking the couch for like an hour straight. No stopping, just straight cushion lick.
"Don't look at me like that."
I said to her from the couch.
"Come here and cuddle with me if you're going to stare."
She didn't move.
"Oh fine, ignore me now. But when you want some of my peanut butter toast I'll remember this."
She got up and made her way to me with a sigh. It's really hard being her.
So then we cuddled on the couch - well technically we cuddled on the couch cushions that are currently spread out on the floor in a makeshift doggie bed, because she can't make it up onto the couch. But that was fine with me because it was closer to the tv.
Today I get some new ones that I will be protecting in a vault, with a guard, and laser beams you can only pass through by doing all the correct moves to Beyonce's All The Single Ladies. But I think the couch cushions might stay on the floor. Just because Crystal won't be judging me any more doesn't mean she doesn't want company. Ok, so she probably just wants peanut butter, but I like to pretend it's the love. They pretty much go hand-in-hand at this point.
1 comment:
I knew we were soul mates.
When I broke my contact lens last year (yes I said "broke" because I was the only person outside of a third world country who was still wearing RIGID GAS PERMEABLE lenses, which are essentially just little round shards of glass placed directly on the eye ball), I couldn't afford new ones and found myself wandering around the house wearing a pair of old glasses that were held together only by the very glamorous ball of duct tape between my eyes.
Had I known there were others out there like me, I would have just designed my own Shabby Chic line of glasses.
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