Fleegan.com and I have both turned another year older.

I can tell I’m getting older in two ways:
First, I had to get new glasses. Honestly, I was way overdue. I hadn’t had my eyes checked in 7 years. The squeaky-voiced, 18 year-old cheerleader/eye doctor scolded me on that.

“Mrs. Jones! You should NEVER go more than two years without an eye exam!”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I didn’t have any problems or anything.”

“You shouldn’t wait that long. Ever. Like, ever never.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Now. Before we do the exam I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay.”

“On your sheet here, you didn’t list any medications.”

“Right.”

“So what medications are you on? Did you bring them with you?”

“What? No! I don’t have any.”

“You don’t have any with you?”

“I don’t have any. At all. I’m not on medication.”

“You aren’t?”

“No. Why? You think I should?”

“No, no! It’s just, like, everyone who comes in here is on medication.”

“Is this a geriatric eye clinic? No one told me it was a specialist eye clinic-”

“No! No, it isn’t. It’s just, it’s been ages since I’ve met someone who isn’t on any drugs.”

How it POSSIBLY could’ve been AGES when she’d only graduated Eye Doctor School 15 minutes before I got there is beyond me.

17 days later I have new glasses with a much stronger prescription and I’m pretty sure it’s killing my brain. And when I take my glasses off at the end of the day I become Velma from Scooby Doo all blinky with arms stretched out trying not to fall into any ghost traps.

 

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