A New Kind of Vision

Okay, so it's a well-documented and established fact that I'm 45 years old, making me pretty much the poster child for middle-age. And everyone knows that middle-aged people need new glasses, especially those prone to driving way too slow on the highway.

I had discovered in the last six or seven months that I needed to take OFF my glasses to read the excruciatingly small fonts found on things like, oh, Advil bottles or Jason Clark's blog. I was expecting to join the club of over-40 wearers of "progressive lenses". They tell me that it's "amazing" that I made it to 45 before needing them, which makes about as much sense as British Columbians taking credit for the Rocky Mountains -- it just is, no credit to anybody.

So, now I'm sitting at my computer screen, angling my head in different directions, fighting vertigo worthy of a series of tidal waves in the open ocean.

The only real surprise -- which shouldn't have been, really -- is how danged expensive getting old is. You'd think us older folk would get a little respect, instead of people seeing us as just another cash cow. If we can still find our wallets with our new-fangled progressive lenses on, that is.

Y'all excuse me while I go fall up the stairs.