I’m just too droopy today. Is it because it’s Monday? I dunno.
No, no. I think it’s the contacts I’m wearing today. They are making everything appear a little cloudy. Cloudy — droopy. They go together.
So here’s the story about the glasses. Dan and I were cuddled on the couch Saturday night watching Twilight under a big huge down comforter. Crow Crow goes the baby over and over again. Okay, I’ll get him a bottle (good god, he’s GOT to stick to a pattern of sleeping through the night!)
I crawled back into the cocoon of the comforter. Since the movie was already paused I turned to Dan and make that goofy googly eye face that means, I can’t believe we have to plan every intimate moment but oh well, Wanna Have a Go at It? Needless to say he was like, yeah, SHHHHHHHHHure! I oh-so-suavely pulled my glasses over my face and my hair and politely dropped them beside the couch. Softly thunking to the ground, we then buried ourselves even deeper under the blanket, fidgeted with clothes and limbs and came out from it all somewhat sweaty, touching each other sweetly and ahhhh (deep breath) calm.
The movie had been paused too long. We had to find the remote and restart it and fast forward and, oh, ick! where the hell is the damn remote. Mostly naked under the covers, okay, totally naked, and pressed against Dan, the ultimate heat machine, I wasn’t so very happy to be searching the cushions, the tables, the floor for that dang remote. It was like 50 degrees in the house, but here I go throwing off the covers and tromping about – smoosh, crack, f–k! My glasses. Snapped em right in half at the bridge. Now these have lasted through countless pulls and tugs and scratches from the little ones, my own recklessness aside. And now, smoosh, crack, F–K! Every good moment just has to have a down side, doesn’t it? I just picked them up and looked at them and thought, oh the f–k well. Oh well.
But here I am with 2 year old lenses in my eyes, the ones the doc could never get quite right, so everything is somewhat blurry most of the time. If I’m just walking around the house, all is well, but reading and focusing on small letters and numbers I’m squinching and squirching and wondering if I’ll be a slave to my glasses for my whole life, if I should take the plunge and get the Laser Surgery.
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As a fellow slave to glasses, I feel your pain. When I wear my contacts I end up unintentionally flirting with people I’d rather not be due to my excessive need to wink one sticky eye or the other.
As for the circumstances under which the glasses were broken, it’s my experience that a little intimacy makes everything clearer.
I realize this comment is about a month-old post, but was digging around your blog…had to laugh at this one. Anything broken during or because of sex is always better than for any other reason…I once broke my nose. No kidding. True story. Wish it had been glasses!