My Glasses Fling

This morning I decided that for once I would bring in wood now rather than later. It wasn't snowing when I got up and was actually light out, so why wait until after work when it's dark and who knows how much snow/sleet might be falling?

Anyway, I got into my grubbies (as we affectionately call them), grabbed the wheelbarrow and headed to the wood stack. While I was untying the tarp and flipping it back so I could get at the wood, a rogue gust of wind flicked the tarp which caught my glasses and sent them flying. Like, poof they were just gone.

I immediately started to look. On the wood pile. Behind the woodpile. On the tarp. Under the pallets. You get the idea: everywhere. Then I go around to where I can get over the fence and start looking in the cornfield. I mean those things were gone fast so I thought they might have really flown.

But I didn't find them. Then I start looking in crazy places: maybe they're hanging in the fence. Or maybe they're up in the tree. I think these things have to be easy to see even without my glasses on; I mean there's a fresh layer of snow everywhere. Coloured things usually stand out against a white background.

AT THE SAME TIME (as they say in knitting patterns), I was kicking myself, and pretty hard. I had thought about wearing my "work" glasses, but decided to wear the new ones. You know, the ones with the progressive lenses (no-line bifocals). Any other pair and I might not have worried about them too much--I mean I have six to eight sitting on my dresser at any given time that I could wear. But these are my new ones, the only progressive ones. The ones that would be costly to replace (even for me, an eye-care professional). Kicking, kicking, kicking.

After more than 10 minutes, I gave up. Loaded up the wheelbarrow with wood and headed to the house where I unloaded it and then put on my work glasses (kick, kick) so I could see.

Back out to the wood pile for another load and another kick look. I couldn't give up on it.

So I look in all the same places, and a few more nooks and crannies. With every step in my big snow boots, I am expecting to hear a big CRUNCH. And although that would be bad, the up-side would be that I would have found them. (Plus, I have the skills to fix them but need to actually have them in hand to do so!)

Another 10 minutes, and with great relief, I finally found them in the cornfield--on my third pass. The were standing in the snow, the temples very politely holding the lenses up off of the ground. No damage.

Phew!

Lesson of the day: use the right tool for the job (including the right glasses).

PS: Tonight when we got home (around 6:30), the shop where we park was a balmy 48 degrees (F). The living room was a very chilly 47 degrees (F). It's amazing how your expectations influence how warm or cool a temperature feels!