New Glasses

Dear diary,

I think I typically handle the disrespect and poor leadership at my workplace with more grace; I traverse the unmet expectations of parenting broken narcissists with less hostility; I battle the rigors of losing my focus with tenacity. The past few days, however, my soul has hurt. I feel battered and concerned my bruises are exposed to my audience.

I have missed these daily interactions since Tuesday…. Wednesday night, I had a column written and somehow deleted it. On top of the rest of it, I got fed up and cashed out for a few days. Wednesday had been the sports highlight of the week! There were four Premier League matches and UFC Fight Island 2, and on Wednesday I stayed home from work. It was a special day in our family; July 6 is the bride's birthday anniversary. You'd naturally infer that I took off work to celebrate her 47th year beginning, but no. I had to take our eldest to the eye doctor. No big deal, I thought.

Upon arriving at the vision center, we were greeted with locked door and a lady with a thermo gun. With bandanna donned, I entered with my daughter and we received our temperature checks. Ushered into the waiting area, Mayfare commented that the seats looked like electric chairs. We sat down to wait our turn. I had expected that with an appointment, we'd get right in, but although we arrived on time at 1245, we weren't escorted to the first exam until 110. While the tech asked the battery of questions, I listened to Mayfare give breviloquent answers and filled in the blanks. We then were asked to wait for the doctor, so we trudged back to the electric chairs for another half hour. The wooden seats weren’t comfortable but I was seated, and there was something about the conditioned air in that building that was causing my eyelids to get heavy.

It was during this stint that I dozed off several times causing my daughter great delight. Each time I woke, she was giggling. Once I was awakened by the receptionist because my bandanna had fallen and she gave me a medical mask to wear. Through the grogginess, I held my tongue regarding our wait time. I dozed again with my proper facewear secured around my nose and mouth. My heavy breathing caused odd sounds from the mask’s paper by my ears. Eventually, we found ourselves following the optometrist down a narrow hallway to another exam room. Here, he asked Mayfare to read a bunch of charts with the thing on her eyes and he wrote the prescription. It is worth noting that he said "Okay" in a very comical way a lot. While this amused Mayfare and me, it did not excuse the lack of efficiency. Finally, he wrapped things up and released us.

Thinking of nothing more than removing the medical muffler around my face, I expected we were home free. Past the electric chairs, I could see the exit. I picked up my pace, betraying my motives. Once again, intercepted by the receptionist, we were gestured to those devices of torture, "The stylist will be with you shortly." Only years of practicing self control kept me from exploding with venomous profanities. In that moment, I exercised a love for my daughter that she will never understand. So, we sat at the ornate table and perused the box of samples. Mayfare tried on a few, then made a quick choice. Whether or not she had seen past my donated mask to the exasperation I surely wore, I’ll never know, but her decisive action made me so proud.

Tony Finau and Ryan Palmer are tied at nine under par after Round 2 at Muirfield Village. Conversely, Bryson Dechambeau shot 10 on the 15th hole today, bringing his round to a monstrous 76. Thoughts and prayers with Bryson; he has missed the cut.

If you're following the MLS Is Back tourney, you're doing better than me… Happy Friday!

2020-0717. Friday. ACQUIRE as NEEDED. bakeshere.com