First, a recap: While visiting North Carolina a few months ago, I catch myself wearing my reading glasses instead of my distance glasses while driving a rental car. This isn't a big deal because I actually pass my eye test for driving every year, but I am in unfamiliar territory, so I drive the rental car to a Wal-Mart over the state line in South Carolina, spend $7 on+ +1.50 glasses, and call it a victory.
These glasses quickly become my go-to pair for distance, as they fit perfectly and are large enough to accord me exceptional peripheral night vision. I wear them to work almost daily, and I rapidly become attached to them, coveting them as if I'd never owned another pair . . . though I have about a dozen +1.50s.
I rarely misplace glasses because they're usually on my head, but, for some strange reason, I lose my distance glasses three times in one day while switching them between my readers and my drivers. It takes a team of students to locate my glasses, and all is right with the world until I lose them again on the way home, which is stupid because I should be wearing them to drive home, right?
Fast forward to this morning. Maybe I dropped my glasses in the staff parking lot. I don't remember driving over them (I'd have heard the crunch). Perhaps they're next to my usual parking spot. I arrive early, search around on the ground, see nothing that remotely resembles glasses, then head into the school. Perhaps I'll have better luck inside.
Nope. No glasses.
I really need to get over this. These glasses cost me $7 at Wal-Mart, and I bought them as a temporary solution for the glasses I forgot at the North Carolina hotel when driving to a dinner date. These glasses weren't even supposed to make it to the plane back to Logan. I can go to a local Wal-Mart and look for an identical pair if I care that much.
Late in the school day, I hear the assistant principal in the hallway. We are about to go into state testing mode, so I am surprised that he is out of the test-prep cave. He is probably heading to the superintendent's office, which is three doors down from my room. Suddenly, he pops into my room.
"Are these yours?" he asks, holding up my lost glasses. "One of the math teachers found them in the parking lot yesterday."
I am smiling now. This is such a good thing. Sure, they're cheapo, replaceable glasses, but I missed them so much in the twenty-two hours in which they were missing. "Yes! Oh, my goodness, how did you know they were mine?"
He laughs a little bit, hands the glasses to me, and starts to walk away. "Word is you keep losing glasses, so we all figured they MUST be yours."
Ah, well. It's good to be famous for something, I suppose. Even better, though, it's good to have my glasses back.
