...just in case I misplace my glasses again.
It's allergy season here in Arizona.
My nightfall my contacts are burning, so I resort to my glasses...
...the coke bottle bottom ones.
Even with all the compressed blah, blah, blah materials of modern eye-glass technology they are still thick.
And I am still pretty blind when I don't have them.
I have the habit of reading when I go to bed at night to defrag from the day.
And I can't ever, ever go to sleep unless I do read.
However.
A few nights back I couldn't actually find my glasses.
I frantically patted everything around the sink and tub and couldn't locate them! I involved Mr. Jenny in the catostrophic event!
Hey. He likes it.
And that's what husbands are for...
Right?
After he listened to my freak out for a few minutes...
("OMG! I can't find my glasses! I can't read! How am I going to sleep? OMG! OMG!")
...he helped me look.
To no avail.
Finally I remembered that I have a basic model, non-touch screen Kindle. The kind you advance pages by clicking the button on the sides.
And it has adjustable font.
I let out a sigh of relief and climbed into bed.
Mr. Jenny lay next to me reading his own book.
I enlarged the font to the maximum so I could read, too.
(click, click, click, click, click)
After a few minutes Mr. Jenny looked at me in annoyance and said, "What are you doing? Why are you wiggling so much? And what is that annoying noise?"
"I'm not wiggling," I replied and continued reading.
(click, click, click, click, click)
A few more minutes elapsed and he asked me again.
"I'm not wiggling...I'm just reading!"
He glanced over at the Kindle screen that I was holding about two inches away from my nose.
"Let me see that. Why are the words so huge?" he asked crankily
.
"So I can see them to read them. Geez."
I resumed reading...
(click, click, click, click, click)
and after a few minutes I stopped.
"My thumb hurts," I whined. "My thumb hurts AND I can't find my glasses! And it is taking forever to get through just a paragraph!"
Mr. Jenny took the Kindle from my hands again.
I took it back.
"Just go to sleep," he said testily, "You're not reading a book. You're reading an eye chart."
I tried reading a few more sentences
(click, click, click, click, click)
and gave up.
He was right, after all.
It was like reading an eye chart.
And my thumb was totally exhausted.
And WHO put my glasses in the drawer with the toothbrushes anyway?
Grrrrr.
Sigh.