I'm feeling a little sorry for myself because I can't find my glasses. Do you know how disorienting it is not to be able to find your glasses? There's a great quote in Lorrie Moore's Anagrams about how the more confusing parts of life are like "trying to find your glasses when you can't see because you don't have your glasses on" and while I've always liked how aptly it seems to describe a particular emotional turmoil, I feel I must state that—beautifully poetic metaphors aside and everything—when you are literally unable to find your glasses, it's just really effing annoying.
I mean, where could they even be? I took them camping this weekend, I remember that—yes, we went camping again; I know, I hardly recognize myself either, but I'm not going to panic until I own something from The North Face—and I don't think I've seen them since. Could I have left them there? Is there now a bespectacled bear walking around under the Redwood trees? A satisfied racoon who'd been waiting for an alternative to those itchy gas permeable contact lenses? Have I inadvertently served the ophthalmological needs of the greater Northern California wildlife population? Are they passing around my specs as we speak? If so, I guess I'll consider it an honorable sacrifice. No Far-Sighted Squirrel Left Behind.
In other news, I got my hair cut over the weekend, and it ended up being more dramatic than the most dramatic rose ceremony yet, which is to say that I went in expecting a trim and ended up with far more than that. Which is okay by me, honestly, because a) it grows back, b) I really like what she did, and c) you get more for your money that way anyway, right? It's economics! They're practically paying you!
Anyway, here it is all sleek and fancy on my jauntily-cocked head:
And here is the way it is actually going to look 99% of the time, which is to say air-dried and product-free and way more rough-and-tumble in a slightly dirty mirror:
And hey, look at that, now we all know what I look like in stripes. Why do I own so many stripes? I blame Pinterest, and also poor impulse control, and also the sailors of Breton who popularized the whole look in the first place, although—if you will forgive me for a second for sounding like that guy at college who insisted he liked the Doors before they got so "mainstream," as though every seventeen year old in the world didn't go through their own Doors phase, starting in about 1967 and continuing on to the present day—I have long been a fan of stripes, so I had a little less further to jump onto this particular bandwagon. Which is good, I guess, because I don't jump very well when I can't see without my glasses.
(I still haven't found my glasses.)
WAIT! SEAN HAS FOUND MY GLASSES! This is particularly fortuitous timing, not only because my eyes are getting a little tired with these contact lenses in, but also because it was going to be kind of a downer to end my blog post on "I still haven't found my glasses" and I would hate to be responsible for you feeling sort of bummed out when you finished reading my blog. I mean, I was half thinking I'd have to post some of those Naked Prince Harry pictures to cheer you up. (Have you seen them? What a scamp! A lovable rogue!)
So that's a relief then: my glasses are back to their rightful owner and this post can end, if not a little anticlimactically, then at least on a happier note than it began. In case you were wondering, they were in my sleeping bag, which reminds me of the time I accidentally took the remote control to the family TV to the Woodstock festival in 1999 and only discovered it at midnight in a tent in upstate New York, leaving my poor parents to watch a lot of Nickelodeon that weekend, I'm sure. Sleeping bags, man: they're the Bermuda Triangle of camping. If you've lost anything in the last 10 years, I suggest you check there first.