I’m looking at the world through new eyes today. And no, I haven’t suddenly become deep and soulful. It’s just that my old man cataracts have been traded in for shiny new lenses that can see both near and far. Feels a bit like I can see clearly now…without having to break into song about the rain being gone.
It’s a good thing too because the day of my surgery I misplaced my glasses. By “misplaced” I mean they have vanished into whatever black hole in the universe swallows up car keys, TV remotes, and that one missing sock from the dryer. I wasn’t allowed to wear them into the surgery room, so I put them away for safe keeping. Actually, I handed them to TWNCNBUIP to hold for me.
She says I tried them on at lunch after the surgery to see if they still worked with my new eyes. I say I don’t “see” it that way. In fact, I don’t even remember going to The Duck… and I sure don’t remember lunch.
Now I understand why they make you have a driver. Apparently, you can have a perfectly nice meal, hand your glasses to your wife, and get all the way home without remembering any of it. Must have been a side effect of that double dose of Valium they gave me.
The real challenge has been breaking the habit. I still reach over to my bedside table for my glasses every morning, and more than once I’ve poked myself in the nose trying to put on glasses that aren’t there. On the bright side, at least I don’t have to clean smudges off them anymore.
I can’t decide if I now look younger and more bright-eyed or just like an old guy who has lost his glasses. Maybe I’m both. I’m calling it distinguished confusion.
Speaking of brightening my day, I have to share something with you.
A Google review of The Duck that put a big smile on my face. It’s a really nice one:
“This local Irish pub is a rare kind of find for a bustling city, quietly tucked away, unflashy, and effortlessly welcoming. No blaring TVs, loud music, no sensory overload, just a gentle, familiar buzz of conversation and the comforting clink of pints being set down.
The space feels lived-in and loved, with wood-paneled charm and that subtle magic of a place that doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is. It’s the kind of pub where you lose track of time in the best way, not because of distraction, but because of how grounded, laidback, and genuine it feels.”
Whoever you are, thanks for sharing your kind words about the Duck with Google readers. We are grateful for this little place and all of you make the Duck what it is.
Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go look for my glasses one more time. Not because I need them, but because it is hard to stop doing something you have been doing for forty years.
I’ll probably stop about the same time I quit looking for the keys to my first car.
