Have You Seen My Sunglasses
The sun drives me crazy. My skin comes from a long line of glow in the dark, light skinned, nearly see through Europeans. The kind of people that might have been used to light up the stage for Vaudeville players. Yes, that bright.
So when summer begins to erupt I need to start wearing my shorts as early as I can go outside without freezing my knees off. This is so I can gain a bit of color before going out into heavily traveled public spaces. This year is no different. But this year I have decided to also work at doing something about my “farmer’s tan.” You know when you constantly were short sleeves so your arms from about three inches above your elbows down to your hands gets sun and will turn a nice crispy brown. But from the bottom of your sleeve up there is skin hiding under there that only sees light when you take a shower! I proudly say I have a great farmers tan. This year though I am going to try to toughen up and brown up my glow in the dark shoulders. But first off I need to find my sunglasses so I can go outside with my eyes open.
See there is something in me that tends to space out occasionally. So far I’ve not become a space cadet during anything really important. Like driving or ironing something delicate. No, I tend to space out about where things are. Just the other day I went to the post office where I use a key to get into my box. Then my keys disappeared. Just vanished. I remember having them. I must have because I got my mail all the way home. But the keys decided to take a mini vacation. Oh I went back the next day to ask about the keys, but no keys were turned in. And they would know my keys. For security reasons I don’t put my name on them, pretty smart I told myself—I put my P.O. Box number on them. Quite clever huh? Wait, after seeing that in black and white? Maybe not such a good idea. Got to re-think that whole identity plan. Geeze Louise!
So this week my sunglasses have gone off to some beach somewhere. I can just see them. All sprawled out on a beach lounger. Having drinks delivered by someone without a farmers tan! Oh I have looked for them. In the house, car, truck, shop, garage. On the lawn mower. Checked to see if they were stuck in the hammock. Checked to see if they fell off my head into the—uh cat box during cleaning. Not there thank goodness! P.U.
It’s been nearly ten days since I last saw them. It wouldn’t be so bad but they are prescription and I kinda need them to see when I drive off into the sunset. Last week I had to drive to Twin Falls, Idaho without them. At the first pharmacy I came to I bought these little spring designed, hook over my regular glasses, dark glasses. They lasted about a day. The spring sprung too far during a fight I had with them. I don’t think I was supposed to twang them as far as they would go. Oh well, there’s $14.99 down the pooper.
Now I’m on the hunt for my good and faithful sunglasses. They have to be here. I know they fell off somewhere because they are so old and I have perched them on top of my head for so long that they too are sprung out of kilter. I know, I know. “Don’t put your glasses on your head” is the mantra of my eye doctor’s eyeglasses sales woman. But did I listen? Nope! I just keep going in and having them tightened up. Last time I got “the” look. They will not work on them anymore. They said I need new ones. Imagine that. I think mine are only about 9 years old. Ya, I probably got my money’s worth!
Exactly where, when you lose your glasses, do you look? I have exhausted all the avenues here. They aren’t in the bathroom. Kitchen. Bedroom. Under couch cushions. It will be more than interesting to discover where they are—if I ever discover where they are.
I’m batting 500 though. I went to the post office today and in my box, which I had to open with my “just in case” key, there were my post office keys. Some kind soul found them carousing out and about and turned them in. I want to thank that person and ask them kindly if they could find my dang sunglasses!
Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Share with her at firstname.lastname@example.org Really!