My new glasses are in.
You may not be able to tell, since I chose them myself. Unless Kim comes with me when I choose things, I tend to end up with whatever looks closest to whatever I walked in with. I find this simpler in the long run, and it certainly explains any number of things about my appearance – shoes, clothing, haircut, and now glasses.
Mr. Adventure, I am not.
These are not the usual glasses, though, not “under the hood,” as those who have some understanding of automobiles are fond of saying. I don’t understand automobiles beyond “push the slanty pedal down and it goes forward,” but I do love a good phrase.
No, these are bifocals. Transition bifocals, which means that there’s no clear line between what you can see and what you can’t – it all blurs together. So far, literally.
I’ve been wearing these things since I got up this morning and the world has finally stopped looking like it’s covered in jello now, which is good. I’m still not entirely used to the idea that I have to move my head rather than my eyes to see things, and where the boundaries are for the various focal lengths are still somewhat of a mystery. But I did manage to drive to the other side of town and back this morning without changing the shape of any of the big iron things on the road, and that has to count for something.
There were donuts at the other end of that trip. Motivation is important.