Being able to see things is a prerequisite to a decent sort of day for me. Imagine my indignation, then, when I realised I was missing a tiny, tiny screw from my spectacles which meant one of the lenses wouldn’t stay in. Go on, imagine it as I can’t be bothered to describe it.
I have prescriptions sunglasses so I was able to skulk around looking like a twatbag rockstar for a while- dark glasses indoors is such a sullen look. Then I skulked all the way over to my optician where they sorted out the tiny, tiny screw problem by inserting a new tiny, tiny screw – one with added adhesive for super grippy grip, no less – and allowing me to look like a non sullen, normal not twatbag rock star. For free. Imagine my sudden lack of indignation.
And now I find myself in town, capable of proper depth perception for the first time today without darkened hues all around me, wondering if this is the most significant moment of my entire Monday. It probably is, I mean I’m not very worthwhile so I have to grab significance where I can. If only I were a twatbag rockstar. What’s that now? I used to be a twatbag rockstar and I quit? Well yes but a man is allowed to change his mind every decade or so, isn’t he?
Don’t imagine it or your head will fall off.