Greetings & Salutations Darling Ones,
Today as I was languidly popping another cherry into my mouth I casually thought, When I look back on July 2021 I’m gonna remember eating cherries almost every day.*
Even before I had totally finished the thought I was interrupting myself, No, I’m gonna remember how smart I sound at work all the time now. Which sounds arrogant, but is not an exaggeration. It seems as though languishing creatively for six or so months has been good for my work. Not my fiction work, but my actual pays the mortgage work. I’ve been full of surprisingly good ideas and some keen insights. I’m pretty proud and my client is delighted.
After that thought I was all, Nope. It’s gonna be the month of the glasses. That’s it for sure.
My aging eyes have become the bane of my existence exacerbated by my utter impatience. My new progressive glasses should be here sometime this week or so. However, in the meantime, I spend roughly 82% of my day flitting through different glasses for different activities convinced one pair or another makes something a smidgen clearer and therefore more tolerable.
On the daily I am reenacting the portion of an eye test where the doctor slides different lenses over your eyes and switches between two quickly asking you which on is better. One or two? One? Two? That’s me with the seven pairs of glasses I have in Supergenius HQ (yes, it is a ridiculous number of eyeglasses for one lady with only two eyes to have). Mostly it seems to work if I wear the new prescription for TV-watching and the old prescription for computer work. However, then I have to decide on my mood? Naughty librarian? 50s nerd? Buddy Holly wanna be? Woman with a screw loose? This last one is for real because the yellow glasses I got have a screw loose. They are cheap, poorly made glasses from China and sometimes you get what you pay for.
So July will be the month of the glasses. Perhaps August will be the month of revision. Or getting laid. Or, I don’t know, corndogs. Something better than glasses for sure.
P.S. I’m making a clubhouse sandwich for dinner (for the next three days) and my house smells like bacon and while I do enjoy bacon a sandwich having my house smell like bacon makes me kinda crabby. It’s the worst, lingeringest smell. Boo.
P.P.S in that collage of pictures of above taken on various days I’m only wearing two different shirts. I swear I have more shirts. Apparently I only want to take selfies on days where I’m wearing either Stevie Nicks or Joan Jett.
*Whenever I eat cherries I think of either The Breakfast Club, “Watch what you say, Brian here’s a cherry.” or The Outsiders when Ponyboy Curtis and Cherry Valance talk about sunsets.