I lose them. I’ve done it from childhood. It used to be items of jewelry I’d lose.

As I’ve gotten glasses-reliant to read—it’s the glasses. Medical crisis in the house—absolutely guaranteed I’ll lose my glasses. And they’d stay lost until the crisis simmers down.

Although in this instance, I had Shu-shu’s help, I am relatively certain.

My wonderful new contacts, the concentric bifocals, enable me to read with a little struggle, but enough, in decent light, for reading things like “Do not open near flame,” and “Lethal if swallowed.” This is a Good Thing.  They’re not enough for editing or for sitting and reading for an hour or more. My astigmatism is practically non-existent at distance and a pita close up, so that’s why I need the glasses. And I had a necklace with a little square glasses holder, but the clasp broke; so I went back to hooking them in the collar of my tee-shirt. Which means they’ll fall if I don’t watch it, particularly when getting out of the car and messing with the seat belt.

So it was a tossup where they’d landed: crushed to powder in a parking lot, lost in a store aisle, etc. But it turned out they were in a place (beside my work chair and slightly further than they’re ever set down) that indicate kitten-help.

Finding them saves me some money and (literally) some headaches getting them replaced (days of waiting).

I think I’m making a new rule, that I don’t take my Real Glasses out of the house, just the storeboughts without the astigmatism correction.

I’ve gotten so used to these contacts I’m sitting in my usual spot brushing Ysabel and waiting for my eyes to focus. Things are certainly blurry. Then it dawned on me I took my contacts off to clean last night.

And this morning I have my glasses back.