Not only are my new bifocals trying to kill me, but I’m discovering I can blame a number of questionable situations on them:
Yesterday I had plans to meet a colleague for lunch near my office. She tends to run a little late, so I thought I’d spend a few minutes trying out the bifocals as I read the menu and occasionally scanned the parking lot for her arrival. At one point I thought I saw her come in, but things were kind of fuzzy…and when this woman sat somewhere else I figured I was wrong. Twenty minutes after our appointed time she phoned me from across the restaurant. Yes, that had been her. Pretty stupid, but it was the glasses, I swear!
In the last week or so I’m finding myself ready to put up my fists and tell people off at the slightest provocation. Things that in the past I would have internalized or decided “least said, soonest mended” I am now prepared to argue to the death. This phenomenon can’t possibly be connected to the sleepless nights and wild sweaty spells that my doc assures me are typical with perimenopause. Nope. it’s the new glasses.
A few days ago I discovered a poll that reported that 50% of people in their 20’s and younger believe that sexuality exists on a spectrum. And I, a far-left leaning social liberal who’s been an LGBTQ supporter all my life, am flummoxed by this concept.I’m reminded of how my mother-in-law still slips up and uses the term “colored” when referring to black people (and I am assured by my college-aged kids that “black” is again a perfectly acceptable term). But it’s not that I’ve hit an age where my understanding of the world is not keeping up with the young hipster generation. Absolutely not. It’s the glasses.
I’m going to have to have a stern talk with these new specs of mine.