I had to get glasses today. Well, actually, I went to the eye doctor last week, because I was having trouble focusing at work. But, I picked them up today. So, now I have to worry about my brain and my eyes focusing. I have two different prescriptions to deal with my all-around lack of focus. It seems like the two of them would have something to do with one another, but the optometrist says no. Anyway, my actual vision is fine. But, I have astigmatism and working at the computer all day is making it worse. The doctor says my brain is literally tired of working so hard. I’m like, working so hard to do what? See? Whatever. Stupid brain. It’s not so bad though. I always wanted glasses…I have a glasses kind of face. I never had a short hair type of face, or a hat type of face…but glasses, those look good on me. The irony was, I didn’t need them.
Constantly staring at a computer screen all day has created the need for me to wear them. Maybe my subconscious mind did it on purpose. Now, I have the best of both worlds. I only have to wear them when I’m on the computer or looking at small text. They’re different than reading glasses…but they’re essentially just expensive reading glasses. It’s annoying when I’m wearing them because if I want to look beyond the computer, I have to tip them down at the end of my nose…like my mother. Lindsey says I look exactly like my mother. I suppose it had to happen sometime.
Here’s a picture of my mom with her glasses…
Note: These glasses are equipped with dual facing, battery-operated lights for her nighttime viewing pleasure.
They’re always down on the end of her nose like that…and when they fall down, she just leaves them there so she doesn’t have to take them off to see far away. At some point, her glasses (at the end of her nose) must have transformed her into a diva. Because, now, whenever she is wearing them, she yells stuff like “KRIS! GO GET MOMMA MAE’S IPAD, HON.” They also compelled her to start speaking in the third person. I wonder how long it will be until I start talking in the third person…”Eddie, go get Kristina Mae’s i-mac, hon.”
Here’s a picture of my bad dog (Lee-C) and me, with our glasses (also on the end of our noses):
Note: I didn’t make that stupid duck-face on purpose. I’m not proud of it. I blame it on the glasses.
Oh, and here’s one of Lindsey pretending to be my mom with glasses, wine, and a cigarette
“Give Momma Mae a kiss, hon”
And, last but not least, here’s a picture of Lindsey and my mom iPading together. iPading…it’s a verb. Maybe my mom made it up. I don’t know. But, I like it.
Speaking of my mom…she sent me a fucking hilarious series of text messages the other day. My dad was out of town on a golf trip for their anniversary (he was rewarding himself) and my mom was hell-bent on fixing her planter that sits on the front porch. It didn’t have drain holes in it, and she was not willing to wait for my dad to come home and drill them for her. I was at work. Here’s what they said:
Momma Mae: How do I use this? Is the thing on the end a drill bit? I need to drill holes in my self-watering plant container?
Momma Mae: Does it hook up to battery?
Me: Yes, that’s a drill. The thing on the end is a drill bit. It hooks up to a battery and then that sits on a charger. Knowing dad, it’s already charged. Is the container made of plastic?
Momma Mae: Oh. I hooked it to drill and not charged. How long does the charging take place?
Me: Twenty minutes should be long enough before you can use it…
Momma Mae: This stupid thing won’t do anything! It works, but the plastic is too thick to make a hole.
Me: Yea. That’s an electric screwdriver…not the same thing.
Momma Mae: Oh.
Me: Just watch your fingers if you are going to start drilling holes in stuff!
Momma Mae: I DID IT!!!!!! YES!!!!
Me: AH, SUCCESS!
She figured it out, like she always does. The electric drill still drills and the screwdriver still screws. My dad won at golf…or whatever they call it when you get the ball in the right hole. And, my mom’s fingers are still intact. Everyone wins.
Happy Ending: Oh, and this is a picture of my mom wearing a weed hat and driving a pontoon boat. What has this taught me? My. mom. can. do. anything.