Ever since my eyes rebelled against contact lenses, I wear my glasses almost exclusively. I save contacts for extremely special events like birthdays, weddings, and going to San Diego. Of which I am doing this Sunday. Bitches.
Anyway, my office is located on the lower level of the art museum on campus, and the building is climate controlled year-round. This is nice, but that doesn't just mean temperature. It also controls the humidity levels. You know, to take care of the stupid artwork that is art and that isn't dinosaurs.
(God, I wish my office was in the Natural History Museum. It would be so much cooler if it was.)
Right, so during the winter, I walk my ass from the bus station, grab a coffee and/or slurpee, and attempt to get to work on time. When I enter the museum, my glasses fog up immediately and stay that way for a few minutes.
At the risk of looking stupid (because apparently I've decided that I care what people think, but only at this moment), I remove my glasses right before entering the museum and make my way down the stairs to the lower level.
Clearly this is a good idea, right? You don't need to have good eyesight before heading down a set of marble stairs with no distinguishing features, right?
Well, you can breathe safe, my pretties. I've only almost fallen down the stairs like, twice. The odds are in my favor at this point.
So my vision is seriously compromised at this point, but I hold on to that railing and I've made it through. It's when other items cross my path that causes tension in my brain.
When the brain doesn't get a clear picture, it becomes disoriented. Or, at least mine does. Mine gets annoyed, then confused, then scared, and then annoyed again.
Like when I wake up in the middle of the night and realize I can't see anything. It's pretty annoying until I remember that my eyes suck. But then I can't find my glasses on the nightstand because I probably knocked them onto the floor with the blanket at some point during my slumber, and this is confusing.
Then I start to believe that I'm hearing noises and become convinced that the floor lamp is a murderer. This is also the same emotion behind the reason why I don't look into mirrors at night because of the mirror ghosts, obviously. Scary.
And then I just get annoyed that I am awake at all because sleeping through the night is pretty much a delicacy.
Okay, so there you have it: annoyance, confusion, scariness, and annoyance.
When I arrived at work the other day, I removed my glasses and made my way down the stairs. Halfway down, I stopped. There was a strange guy at the bottom, talking on his phone, and staring at me.