Churnin’ up the butter

I miss Bernard Black so much it hurts.

You can’t see me right now - because my digital camera and computer are no longer on speaking terms - but I look very fetching. I’m wearing my new reading glasses. Jean badgered me into getting them yesterday. We were trolling through Staples Office Supply MegaSuperWonderstore, on the hunt for new pens, when I complained about a sudden onslaught of sleepiness. She stopped, looked at me, and laid down a declaration.

“You need glasses. Your eyes are red; they look strained, like mine do after a long day of trying to focus.”

“Nooo, I don’t need glasses,” I blustered. “Well, okay, I kind of need glasses, but it’s not that bad. In fact, it’s not bad at all. I’m just tired. I’m sure glasses are the one thing I don’t need.”

Dammit I hate friends. She wouldn’t leave me alone - all day - so I finally conceded to buying a pair of reading glasses, since I spend so much time, well, reading (see: farting around on the computer). Saints be praised, they seem to be working. Maybe I can finally end a day without having to make ablutions at the altar of Visine.

The glasses are the very very slim kind that fit into some contraption that looks like a travel-size toothbrush holder. In fact, I didn’t even know what they were when we first stopped in front of them. All I saw was a colorful assortment of toothbrush holders.

“I think you should get this kind,” Jean said. “These are cute.”

“Yeah, Mom,” Torie agreed. “Those are really cute.”

I plucked one off the display. Popping off its top, I asked, in genuine puzzlement, “What the hell is it?”

“Mom, did you just say ‘hell’?”

“No. Well?” I asked, waving the container in front of them. Both Torie and Jean looked at me in astonishment, and then laughed. “They’re GLASSES!”

Now, I have no problem admitting I’m almost completely non-observant and impractical, but I know an empty vessel when I hold one in my hands. Apparently, somebody had decided they liked the glasses in my particular container, but didn’t feel the need to pay for them. That’s their choice. As Weird Al says, in Amish Paradise (sung to the tune of Gangsta’s Paradise:

I really don’t care - in fact I wish him well/’cause I’ll be laughin’ my head off when he’s burnin’ in hell (fool)

Neither Torie nor Jean apologized for laughing, but they did steer me towards another container, a full one this time. I picked green rims, to make my eyes look even more fiercely green, though I did kind of want brown. I still like them. They’re rubbery, and fun to play with when I’m bored. Which is a lot.

Later, back at the house, Jean and I tried out each other’s pens. Hers were medium-tipped, and mine were fine, so we decided to trade one pen each out of our packs of four. Then, I traded Torie for one of hers. So today, I have new pens, and new glasses. I’m happy.

But if I finish all of my chores, and you finish thine/Then tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 1699.

I’m easy to please. Love you guys. Have a great day. xo