polarized

Went on a last-minute shopping trip this evening for little incidentals for the cruise. Primarily I wanted (and found) a smaller shoulder bag than the primordial monster I usually carry around with me; the thing works great as a spine dislocator (if you don't already have scoliosis but always wanted it I'll let you borrow my purse)  but I'd rather travel a little more lightly for prowling around beaches and resort towns. 

Secondly, and even more, I wanted a pair of sunglasses. This might sound like an easy quest. Unfortunately, my beglassesed state of being makes the quest rather more like trying to reach the portal cake. I can't wear contacts (the only time I tried, I wound up with blisters on the insides of my eyelids), so normal sunglasses are out; and I can't afford prescription sunglasses; so for years I've subsisted on clip-ons. They've served adequately, but as I've prepared for the cruise, a sullen flame of rebellion began a slow burn. Dammit, I want sunglasses. I want big silly sunglasses like everybody else wears, that make me look like a space insect. 

Yesterday Mom told me about a kiosk in the mall that she'd heard sells sunglasses that go over your regular glasses. Pessimistic but hopeful, I headed to the mall after work. And I came away with two big, beautiful pairs of slide-over sunglasses that look just like regular sunglasses except they fit completely over my prescription glasses.

I could weep for joy. I wish I could wear them to bed.