Bugger! I failed my eye-test. I can’t believe it. I studied so hard. I knew all the parts of the eye and I still failed. The eye-guy says that my close-up vision is still good, but, I can’t see distances for toffee. I told him he was dead wrong and he said, “Over here, Mr. Wood. That’s the coat rack.”
Okay, maybe he’s got a point.
I know why I flunked my eye-test. I get so nervous about it, because I don’t know if I’m answering correctly. The guy wheels up the giant Elton John glasses circa 1976 and squashes them into my face and asks me which blurry image do I like the best. Eventually, I can’t tell the difference between the blurry images and I can’t make up my mind which is best. The eye guy loses his temper and I feel like I’m Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man, but Lawrence Olivier isn’t asking, “Is it safe?” The words that strike fear into me are, “Number one or number two? I just need to know a number, Simon. One or two? One or two? I can’t let you leave until you tell me. One or two?”
So I need glasses. It’s not a problem. I can deal. I am a little worried that my writer buddies are going to pick on me now that I have glasses. I can see some of the hardboiled guys yelling out, “Four eyes,” then stealing my glasses and beating me up. They’re hardboiled for a reason, y’know. The cozy people, being more subtle, will just write something mean on my back. They’re sneakier.
But to my advantage, I can do the dramatic glasses removal during book negotiations. I look disappointedly at the advance offered and slowly pull my glasses off and rub my eyes and sigh and say, “This is one time I wish I was seeing double (the dollar figure).” So glasses have their ups and downs.
But I’m going with glasses. No contacts for me. I can’t stand anything in my eyes. The eye-guy had a hard enough time getting the drops in my eyes. He had to hold me down and pull my lids back to get the stuff in. Oddly, I kept my mouth clamped shut. I don’t know why. I’m definitely not going with the eye surgery. I’d go on a bad laser day and get zapped, but my mother-in-law dissuaded me. She just had the surgery and said, “I saw my cornea peel off,” like it was a good thing. I don’t need to hear that, especially when I’m eating.
So I’ve been wearing glasses for about a week. It’s okay. I can see better. Things used to have that soft focus thing going on, like on Star Trek whenever James T Kirk set eyes on his woman of the week. Julie says I look very distinguished, but then she laughs and runs away. I’ve stopped complaining that we need a high definition TV because the picture is for crap. I did see an intruder in the house, but it was a false alarm. It was just Julie. I didn’t see that coming. Maybe I should have gotten glasses sooner.
Yours in sharp focus,
PS: I’m to San Francisco to do a lunchtime signing at Stacey’s with Tim Maleeny and Mark Coggins. Then tomorrow, I’m off to Seattle to do signings up there. Check my website for when and where.