Jim Dodge, Fup
Yesterday, a screw, followed by one lens, fell out of my reading glasses. Fortunately I have a second pair—not because I was efficiently planning ahead, but because of a strange episode that happened about 18 months ago.
I’d gone out to lunch with a friend. I put my glasses on to read the menu, and after lunch, we went into the small toyshop near the restaurant, where I put them on again to see things from up close. Then I went home and started gathering stuff together for an afternoon meeting, eventually needing my glasses.
They weren’t in the case. They weren’t in any of my pockets. They weren’t in or under my car or anywhere between my car and my front door or in the flower bed by the door. I looked all over the house, even in rooms I hadn’t been into and places like the microwave (you never know). I called the restaurant and was told no glasses had been handed in. I called the toyshop where there was also no trace of my glasses. So I grabbed my computer glasses, which do in a pinch for reading, and headed out. On the way home, I called in at the restaurant anyway and rummaged through the child’s seaside bucket of abandoned reading glasses, and then called in at the toyshop. Nothing. So the next day, I ordered a new pair of glasses.
Ten days later, I got home in the afternoon to find a phone message that my glasses were ready. Without even taking off my coat, I went back out to the car.
And there, at the side of the step up to my front door, carefully placed where they couldn’t be stepped on, was my original pair of glasses.
I’m not sure if they were there when I walked in a few minutes earlier because I was fiddling with my keys and not looking around me. But they certainly weren’t there when I left in the morning—you couldn’t miss seeing them.
How they got there remains a mystery. The explanations offered by friends aren’t plausible. One suggestion is that a neighbor found them and put them there. (But always supposing a neighbor recognized them as mine, he/she would have knocked on my door and wouldn’t have waited 10 days.) Another suggestion: I dropped them, they bounced under the small fir tree beside my front door, and when the landscape people in my townhouse development mulched around the trees, they found them. (Well maybe, except that I’d already looked there and anyway, the mulching had been done five days earlier. )
It still spooks me.