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*this* John W. Hays' take on things and experiences

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I don’t know how many times I have good-naturedly poked fun at Cyndie when her glasses somehow make their way to the floor beneath the bedside table in the dark of night.

Since she can’t see anything without her glasses, she asks me for help.

I just can’t restrain myself. I always end up asking why she puts her glasses down there in the first place. If she can’t see them and she can’t reach them, that seems like a really illogical place for her to put her critical specs.

Cyndie never thinks that’s as funny as I do.

Well, until last night.

While she has had glasses for most of her life, I breezed along for almost fifty years before finally joining the club. I’m still struggling with the routine of keeping track of my growing variety of readers. 

As I stood up from the bed and turned to set my glasses on the bedside table, they slid. My cat-like reaction triggered the reach reflex, but I missed. Instead, I succeeded in pushing them further off the surface, where they were able to tumble down to a spot on the floor that requires an extra joint between the wrist and elbow to reach.

Cyndie was way too mature to ask me why I put them down there in the first place.

Unfortunately, something tells me this serving of humble pie won’t successfully dissuade me from blurting out the same dang question to my love, next time she needs me to rescue her glasses again.

I may be getting older, but it doesn’t guarantee I’m maturing.



Written by johnwhays

December 13, 2017 at 7:00 am

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