Well, at the ripe old age of 51 I am reluctantly forced to face the inevitable. My eyesight is not what it used to be.
At the age of twelve I could see power lines on the horizon. At the age of twenty one I could see the threads on shirts from across the room. By thirty I needed to be at arms length to do that.
By the time I was forty I had bigger concerns and ignored the steady decline that the years impose on us all.
To the present day. I type this at the bar. I cannot clearly see the keyboard I am typing on. I wish I could blame the beer. But I can’t.
I can still read a license plate from a hundred feet but the truth I don’t want to face is that I sometimes have trouble reading my phone. I have reading spectacles I picked up from the local drug store. I don’t want to wear them, and I kid myself I don’t really need them. But I do.
Perhaps this is natures way of hiding the wrinkles from me when I look in the mirror.
Bugger.