Monday morning, rescued

                         

If you live west of the Mississippi, it probably wasn’t a great weekend, either. I can tell you about the weekend east of the Mississippi. Rough.  The warm temperatures were completely ruined by the heavy, pelting drops of rain and then the increasing force of blowing wind.

I went out to investigate some rattling down the street, and discovered a length of my downspout bouncing in front of one neighbor’s house, and another piece in my opposite neighbor’s front yard. 110 pounds of me had a sore trial against sixty odd mile per hour wind gusts vs. gutter rescue.

First I took the uphill, wind to the back side. It had to be done, but the wind almost put me down. I had to park myself and jam the cane tip at an angle and lean against it. But I got the little curvy end from Dan’s front yard, and turned back down the street for the long length of downspout actually dancing up the road toward me.  I got it, too, and stashed both pieces leeward of the trash cans.

By the time I went to bed at ten, my exterior walls took solid blasts, but my trash cans were intact, and I was tired. I also was not looking forward to today, and an eye exam and the need to select new frames. I hate eye exam day, and being sight impaired for the rest of it.

This morning trash cans remained intact, but the rain barrel was toes up, faucet down at the foot of the steps. Laura passed it further down the drive on the way to school, so it blew there. I got it on its bottom and left for the dreaded appointment.

Last year I needed one lens upgraded, but passed. I like my frames too much, and could not bear giving them up for a week to have new lenses made.  This year both lenses needed another boost, as I knew they would, and I made my way from the exam to glasses, shoulders sagging.

There was a new optician at the desk.

I sat down across and launched my tale. I like these frames so much I did not get new glasses a year ago. But this summer my glasses were involved in the tragic accident to my femur, and have never been put right in spite of several trips here for re-adjustment!

“Well, put them down on the table,” said the new optician, and she rocked them up and down on their current pivot point. Axis? Who knows. “This is a very simple fix,” she announced. It wasn’t that simple; three trips to the back room were required. Then they fit perfectly.

And there I sat, torn between perfect frames and new lenses.

“Now,” said Ms. Magic, “let’s see if these frames are still in production.” Two and a half years later, they still are! She apologized for the extra couple of days to get the lens templates, but so what!? I will be seeing again, through perfect frames.