Blur

I’ve spent a month without contact lenses. In fact that has left me blind except for images that are inches from my nose. My back-up plan? The trendy Swedish glasses (super expensive ten years ago) that I hate to wear. Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses. Unfortunately, blindness makes the other senses more acute. Like the lingering smell of Lucky. Husband busted him hanging out in our bathroom. Yuck.

One of Jack’s caretakers left her diaper bucket in the kitchen sink. Yuck. The newest coffee stain on the white carpet. Super yuck. I have spent weeks trying to eradicate it to no avail.

I cringe when I see Jack sailing by with my tea towels. She uses them as personal towels on her lap. I feel that the towels that wipe my wine glasses should not serve her needs as well. We apparently don’t see eye to eye. I feel mean spirited when I snatch them from her lap. Yes, I do.

Yesterday I was preening in the restroom that has a view onto the backyard. Without my glasses I sensed something amiss. I perched the glasses on my nose and headed to the backyard where I discovered a baby car seat. I am former law enforcement and determined that there was no baby in situ. I queried Jack who claimed to be as unknowledgeable as I was about the mystery baby car set. Fast forward to the end of the day. Caretaker had asked Jack if she could place the car seat in the backyard overnight. Jack, I surmise forgot.

On most days, after spending capital challenging weighty legal arguments on the job I want to blur my senses with an adult beverage. I am Catholic. Yet, I am nagged by a sense that I should be more charitable towards my mother-in-law. God help me.