Peered out the window on the door. Yup
is was a cold day. Cold enough to bundle up warmly. Cold enough to
use my toque-scarf thing-a-magie. You know what I mean, don't you?
Please tell me that you do so I won't have to scout around for a
better term. Time to go feed the chickens, back and forth up and
down, cluck cluck cluck, toss bread scraps hither and yon, especially
to the Americauna who is the odd one out and never seems to catch
anything. O.K. Time to go back in and whip off all those outer wraps
especially that touquee thing that rubs against my face.
Not so fast, girl! I heard the
tiniest little plop and knew
the lense on the left side of my glasses had fallen out. The lens
wasn't difficult to find but where was that screw? I didn't have to
be someone with a whole string of initials after my name to know
seeing wasn't the
sense of choice in this situation. I had to feel
all around for that infinitesimally tiny screw. Ever try doing that?
Well my fingers had enough feelers in
them to identify and pick up the screw but that wasn't the end of the
story.
Don't
me that patience is
one of the sixth (or six hundred lol) senses because I didn't have
enough to get the screw back into place. Seeing wasn't enough here,
either, so I'll just limp along with
tape
on my glasses until I've stocked up on more Patience or until hubby
comes and fixes them for me. He'll gladly do it.
Okay,
maybe I could tack on a moral or turn it into a parable, but I'm not
terribly inspired. Any ideas?
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