|Missing: Have you seen these glasses?|
Naturally, since my mother died of Alzheimer's, I looked for them everywhere a pair of glasses should not be: in the fridge, in the freezer, in the garbage, in the big bag of soil I was using to do some re-potting of plants. I zigzagged across our property several times, retracing my steps from garden to garage to side deck to screened porch, and back again. I looked under all the beds, even in rooms I had not entered for days. I opened every drawer in every table and bureau and ransacked the cushions on the couches and upholstered chairs. Alas, to no avail; they're gone.
And the funny thing is, this bothers me so much more than whether or not the Russians hacked our election or if Jared Kushner talked to some Russians or even if Donald Trump had sex with Vladimir Putin. All of that pales in comparison to losing those glasses with the lovely teal-colored temples that were lighter than air, that I had back in the old days.