"Where were you when you were wearing them?" someone calls out from the kitchen.
I say it about thirty times a day.
I walk out of the bedroom, stumbling down the dark hallway.
"Where are my glasses?"
I go over to the coffee machine. Put a new filter in, fill the glass beaker with water. Add the coffee. Pour the water in the reservoir but can't see the water line on the side of the machine.
Did I put to much water in or not enough?
"I'm blind without my glasses!"
"Where are my damn glasses?" I yell!
I'm getting frustrated.
I sit at the kitchen table, drinking my watery coffee. On the table is a box of Cheerios facing the other way, so I see the back of the box. A big blur...
"Where are my glasses?" I ask again.
No answer. Someone laughs.
I get up from the table and walk to the front door. The morning paper has arrived. I unfold it and open it to the cover page. Written in bold, face type print across the top, a major event that happened in the last 24hrs. I squint to try to read the headline.
"Where the hell did I leave my glasses?" I ask myself, aloud.
I don't bother answering because I realize, I don't know. But I hear someone snicker from the kitchen.
I go back and sit back at the kitchen table and grab the remote to turn the weather channel on, to see what the day is going to bring. When did the numbers get so small on this remote? I can't even see the red button to turn it on.
"Are my glasses in the bathroom?" I knock on the closed door.
Are my glasses in there?" I ask.
After knocking a few minutes I realize no one is inside.
It's usually the last place I'm wearing them. My personal reading room. Not there.
There are two pairs of older ones, all scratched, too weak for me to read through, I put them back were I found them, for the next time I need them in an emergency. An emergency like now.
"Are my glasses out there, I yell?"
Getting off the throne, something drops to the floor from the top of my head.
"Never mind," I yell, "found them!"
I sit back and relax, reaching for the recent issue of GQ from the magazine rack attached to the door.
Like I said before, my own private reading spot.