I once was lost…well, one of my earrings at any rate.  It’s an incredibly sickening realization to come home (it’s always after you’ve been 10,000 places that day) to realize that you’ve lost an earring.  Floor, no.  Coat, scarf, no.  Car, no.  You contemplate all the people you could call and ask “have you seen a little blue earring?”  You’d almost have rather lost both earrings and then you wouldn’t have that lone faithful earring looking at you reproachfully.

Days later, you’re picking up the living room.  You pick up a basket off the floor, and there it is.  Mocking you, saying “hahaha I was here all along in plain view and you just couldn’t SEE ME.”

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Let’s talk glasses. Glasses and contacts and who do I want to be today? Hair in a bun and glasses so I can live up to all those stereotypes? Because I do enjoy hair in a bun and glasses. It’s been a year since my last eye exam, which means I’m eligible for a new set of lenses and, if I read the insurance form correctly, frames. I think the last time I had new frames was…2001? 2002? It doesn’t seem like that long ago but boy howdy, my eyes know the difference. I wore my glasses yesterday and kept wondering why my eyes hurt. Um, because the prescription is 6 years out of date?  (Note: this has nothing to do with not being able to see the prodigal earring – I was not wearing glasses that day.)

But here’s the problem: picking out frames. There are two prongs to this problem. 1) Inability to make a decision – do they look okay? Am I hallucinating when I think of myself as the type of person to wear these frames? Will I regret the decision the moment I’m stuck with them? Are they too large/small for my head? Etc. 2) When you’re nearsighted, and you try on frames, and you look in the mirror, all you see is a fuzzy outline. And you think, “these look awesome!” or “I could never wear these” but you have no idea what you really look like in them. For the love of God, someone needs to come with me. But who?

In other news, I was dusting/rearranging/weeding my bookshelves today (while listening to lectures on reviewing reference books) and realized that I own more than 30 bookmarks. I just kept finding more. This does not stop me, every time I’m at Powell’s, from picking up their latest offering, oh no. Or, when I’m at work, from grabbing an Olivia bookmark (“reading never wears me out”) or one that spells out READ in green peas.

*Thanks, Quotationary. And George Chapman.

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