Back to the glasses store. As I noted – or did I? – the second pair didn’t work, either. The middle range was right in the middle, which sounds right but isn’t; it means that when you look to the distance, everything’s blurred. Unless you tip your head down. Given that my default facial expression is sort of a peeved frown, this makes me look like a Man on a Mission, and this mission is finding out who the hell dug all the cookie bits out of the ice cream. So I went to another store, where the prices were twice as high but the frames much cooler. The glasses came in yesterday. I put the on.

The middle range was right in the middle. Everything in the distance was blurred. Unless I tipped my head down.

At this point I would just give in and admit I was asking the impossible, except that the glasses I have no do not have this problem. The optician understood my cries of despair, though, and took another measurement. Sure enough, the middle-focus area was too high. Shall we recount?

First set: inaccurate prescription, AND inaccurately ground lens

Second set: New prescription, middle range set too high, sunglasses unusable because the factory had put on some markers while the tint was fresh

Third set: old prescription, middle range set too high

The fourth set comes Thursday. Stay tuned.

I’m at the coffee shop now, waiting to get Gnat. It’s the best part of Tuesday: the morning columns are out the door, and I’m free for the rest of the day to do what I please. May do a Diner. Tuesday night always leaves me with a diminished desire to write anything. We’ll see.

LATER

And I was right. Wife & child went off, and I did a Diner. One of my favorites, I think; like the best of the old radio shows, it just made itself. There’s no plan when I do these – they just happen. There’s a point where I go to a live radio feed, and trust me: that was the live radio feed. Made this one feel, oh, magical! In a happy pixy sort of way. If you listen, please listen to the end, because it’s not over until it’s over. There are only two songs; one is an unbearable children’s tune Gnat plays 47 times a day, and the other is summertime geetar sublimity, performed by my hero Brian Setzer. Nothing explodes, which is nice. I was getting tired of things exploding.

Oh how I miss it. I really do. But I couldn’t do what I do at home on the air unless I had the world’s fastest & sharpest producer (which I did have, back in the day) and a station inclined to indulge such rambling nonsense.

Anyway, here you go.

Screedblog’s up, too.

I’ve done my part; have a fine day.

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perm link, if you want to.

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