In the last year, Dean and I have found that we’re getting old.

Hate to admit it, but we are.

For example…

A couple weeks ago, I hopped into the car to go to town, something I’ve done hundreds of times in the last 15 years, and backed down the driveway.

Now we have a long driveway in the country, so it’s something you do very carefully because the traffic flying by isn’t crawling, it’s generally at ‘total your car’ speed sometimes.

I was going through my checklist of things I needed to do, the equipment I needed to take to town to do some work and making sure I had everything.

As I neared the road, and was getting ready to back into it, a car flew by.

Well, it used to be that I would notice the car and also apply the brake, waiting until it was clear.

Not anymore, apparently. I saw the car fly by, and I was already engaged in turning the wheel to back into the road and continued to do so.


Instead of stopping, like I’ve always instructed everyone else to do, I threw it into drive to get off of whatever I had just hit.

Realizing, finally that I was stuck, I got out of the car to see what in the world I had hit.

Well, who knew! We had a mailbox at the end of our driveway.

Talk about feeling like an idiot.

To make things worse, a former classmate owns the land across the road and he and his family and friends spend the weekends camping and sitting by the fire sometimes, and of COURSE, they were all outside.

I’m sure the conversation went something like, “The idiot just backed over her own mailbox!” Snicker, chuckle, giggle. I mean come on, if I were over there, I would laughing at me too. I mean seriously, who does that?

Me apparently.

So after my face turned the appropriate shade of read, my former classmate, who was camping across the road from us, came to my rescue, sawing off the pole the was holding the mailbox in half, and removed it from underneath my car.

I thanked him profusely for rescuing me.

The other day, we left the house to go to a graduation. We had again a list of things that we needed to do.

We arrive home to see that the front door was wide open.

I suppose “normal” people would think that it was a possible robbery.

Not me.

I assumed that we had left and someone had walked out and not shut the door.

I think it was the guy that the next part of my story is about.

See Dean’s at the age that he needs reading glasses. I’ve started carrying them in my purse for him. Why? Because he can never find them.

Nope. Not one pair of the 20 or more he has laying around.

The other day I counted 4 pairs in the car.

As of my last count this morning, there are 2 pair in the bathroom, 2 in the bedroom, a couple in the living room and I think 4 in the kitchen.

This doesn’t count a pair I think I saw in the other bathroom, or the other two cars, and probably a handful in his office.

From a young age, I knew that it was not acceptable to lose your glasses. I can only remember one time that it happened, and that was because someone had picked them up thinking they were theirs.

My eyes are just bad enough that I need my glasses to find my glasses.

I sometimes fall asleep with them on, and will place them on the bed next to me. Or I’ve noticed that I can tuck them into my hand and I don’t lose them.

If I get up in the middle of the night, and it’s pitch black, I put on my glasses. I don’t know why I think that it will help, but I do.

This morning I woke up. First thing I did was reach for my glasses.

I frisked all of the pillows, checked the floor around the bed, very carefully, because I was afraid that I wouldn’t see them and then I’d step on them. I looked on the table tops, in our bathroom, frisked the pillows again…

Figuring that I probably stumbled to bed at about 4 this morning, and maybe for some reason I had left them in the living room, although, that wouldn’t make sense, because I’d run into something between the two rooms without them, I went to the living room picking up every pair I found, they  of course weren’t mine, so I kept going.

Today I have a list of things that I needed to do, like drive a good half hour away to pick up some medicine, and of course, I can’t drive without my glasses.

Now I’m starting to get a little frantic.

I know that if I can’t find them, that in about an hour, I’m going to have a whopping headache.

It’s been 45 minutes.

By this point, I’d normally say, “Dean, can your help me find my glasses?” but he’s gone working at the polls all day.

I look at my phone, correction, I squint at my phone, thinking, “Dean’s gonna get a laugh out of this…” I see a text message.

As I attempt to read the screen, I see that it says, “If you’re looking for your glasses, I MIGHT have them.”

I laugh.

I squint.

I am trying to figure out plan B.

I KNOW I have my last pair around here some place, but where. I can’t see.

I find my old pair from 2 rounds of glasses ago, but NOT my last pair. Those were definitely not going to work. And they’re sunglasses.

I give up.

It’s been an hour and now I’m starting to feel physically sick. I don’t think I’ve ever been that long without them.

I think today will be a movie day.

Or an audio book day, since we just inherited about 50 sets of audio books…if only I could see to find a cd player now.

I’m glad that I know how to zoom the computer screen and that I can type with my eyes shut, but wow, this is not going to work.

And if I were a betting woman, I’d say I have an 80/20 chance that my glasses will make it home tonight after the polls close.

Oh well, I’ll squint through the email, do what needs to be done, as I consider Lasik surgery…