That's better. no more smears. Because today, my object is a sign of my decline into old age. Since hitting my forties, my poor eyes need a little assistance. I need reading glasses. Nothing too strong. The lowest strength available.
As a lifelong bookworm, these old eyes of mine have devoured many a typed word. I've ignored all warnings about reading in the dark etc. I can still hear my mother's nagging tone when I'm reading a book in a darkened corner. But it hasn't harmed me. My eyesight is normal for someone my age. A little wear and tear is expected.
The only downside is the trip to the opticians and having to man up for the jet of air test. The willpower I need, not to blink, when that short, sharp, burst of air is blasted at my naked eyeball, is a feat of strength in itself. I'm a blinker. I hold my hands up and confess.
Another test is due soon. Maybe this will be the time when I walk away looking like Mr Magoo.
Until tomorrow
Px
1 comment:
Comes to us all, I'm afraid ...
amazing how you can get to like them, though x
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