The Die Is Cast

Yesterday on the way to the grocery store I said, "Oh, did gas go up a cent?"

Joey said, "No...it's still $2.05."

"Oh. It looks like $2.06...oh, nevermind, now I can see that it's a 5 and not a 6."

Joey looked at me. "Do you need to be wearing your glasses?"

I began to squirm and squeal a little bit. I HATE wearing my glasses. They slide around on my face, make my eyes look smallish and beady, and generally throw off my groove.

"Start wearing your glass. What does that sign say?" He asked, pointing to a development sign.

I knew what it said, but I couldn't read it. He gave me The Look and turned into the grocery store parking lot.

Several hours later, after noticing that while I wasn't as blind as a bat, I sure couldn't see much at all, I said to Joey, "I need a reward. If I wear my glasses for a whole week, I want a reward."

He looked at me oddly. "You mean besides being able to see?"

"Bo-ring, I want a reward." I said, and flopped down on the couch beside him. "Can I have 50¢?"

"OK, fine. I'll give you some kind of reward if you keep your glasses on from tomorrow morning until next Tuesday evening. You can take them off to sleep, get ready for work, and maybe to read, but otherwise you have to leave them on. Then, maybe, I'll give you 50¢."

While noncommital, it was enough for me. Here I sit, merrily typing away with my glasses on. I guess I can sort of see better.