small twig, giant strength
ominous crack, open eyes
say bye-bye, glasses
I was trying to sneak in an extra five minutes of sleep. I should have known better. the wee-er one scaled the dozing Mt. Mommy and grabbed my glasses off the night stand.
"Hey," I said, shaking off the sleep and the wee-er one. "Give me those."
Squinting with astigmatized blindness I surveyed the damage that was wrought in mere seconds: the right ear piece was bent askew. If I had woken up as a Picasso portrait, they might have still fit.
As gingerly as a still waking up blind person can be, I took the glasses and tried to bend the ear piece back to it’s normal position.
So now my glasses are in two pieces. I called the place where I bought them and was informed I have no warranty. I am wearing contacts that make my palms sweat and my heart race because I have to concentrate so hard on not clawing out my eyeballs.
Just five more minutes of sleep. That’s all I wanted.