Now, don’t panic, I’m not nearly old enough to need these. Whew! I know you don’t want to be reading a blog of someone so horribly impaired. Sure, I’m blind, but I’m still just far away blind – which is strangely called neardsightedness. Mike, on the other hand, has crossed to the myopic side.
My hat is off to Mike for admitting the problem. I think it just got too embarrassing when we were out for me to stand at the back of the restaurant holding the menu out for him to read. So Mike did the grown up thing, he went to the eye doctor and got him some glasses. In fact, the doctor told Mike to get drugstore glasses. Me, being me, bought the deluxe four-pack at Costco. And, yes, Mike proudly wears his pink-framed lenses here at home. (Don’t tell that I told.)
Mike now has glasses at work, in his car, in the living room and next to his side of the bed (the pink ones shhhhhh). The challenge for me is to get used to Mike with glasses. If he’s reading and I’m wantonly running around the house and stop to ask him a question, he will put the reading glasses on the tip of his nose and peer at me over the top rim of the glasses. And, it’s making me insane. I don’t know what it is, but Mike looks crazed when he looks over the glasses and I react in kind. Crazed man answers my question – I back away and pretend I didn’t hear the answer. You know, because he’s crazy.
In fact, he looks A LOT like Donald Rumsfeld. I never had huge issues with Rumsfeld until my friend (dammit Janet) suggested he had a zipper on the back of his neck that he could unzip to reveal his true lizard identity (a la V). It was funny when she first said it. Now that my husband is channeling Mr. Rumsfeld – not so much. I’m resisting the urge to check my husband for a zipper on the back of his neck. I know he doesn’t have one (but what if he does?).
So, while I can still thread a needle, Mike is shielding himself from zipper checks. How did this transition go in your house? Do you or your significant other have zippers on the backs of your necks? How long does it take until you stop looking at the “other” without crazy thoughts?