In the Kingdom Of The Blind

....the One Eyed Man is King.

No sooner had Nicole returned to work at 6.30 in the morning this Tuesday that I decided it would be a great idea to clean my glasses. After doing this I had half a pair of glasses.

You might think this a minor inconvenience if you don't know the extent of my blindness. When I first started to have to wear glasses at the age of ten or so I was so embarrassed that I would refuse to do so, and wandered around in a permanent world of fuzz where anything further away from my face than eighteen inches or so could only really by described as a fizzy area of colour.

That feeling came back in trumps.

I was forced into emergency action and managed by putting my glasses - glass, really - on, and closing my left eye, to locate some superglue. You might envisage that superglueing a lens back into a broken frame would be a delicate operation, and you would be right. Envisage though what this would be like if there was a excited, curious baby, and two excited curious (and hungry) dogs hanging around like bears around honey and picture the scene.

So I got myself into a condition where I could at least get myself to an optician and $400 later, I have ordered a (yes Mum) bendy memory stuff set of glasses - which won't arrive til next Monday. Marvelous.

Eloise nutted me one in Zone Fresh and knackered the glasses again on Wednesday, what a hilarious check out procedure that was; and driving home with the left lens actually balanced in the frame was a tad precarious. Further supergluing ensued.

So I'm limping through on a wing and a prayer.

I do have a spare pair, but they are held together with sellotape. I think that says it all. The answer is probably contact lenses. No, the answer is almost certainly contact lenses.