(the colour thing is a work in progress. but progress depends on un-laziness, which is all too rare.)

the end of an era tomorrow.

new glasses.

of course i have no idea what they'll look like as i didn't think to take people with me when frame-hunting. hence, i have only a very blurry idea of what they'll look like (and a slightly clearer picture of what they'll look like from a distance of about 15 cms, but people do tend to stand further away than that).

i'll miss these old ones, despite hating wearing them (and the references to owls and librarians by my charming colleagues). the lenses are just old enough to be in high school, and the frames will be able to vote in a couple of years (they're already old enough to have sex, but i've made it clear that if i'm not getting any, neither are they). they're scratched and blurry, they alwaysalways slide down my nose and the colour has totally come off the frames. the arms are wonky and there are pitted scars on the edges that rub on my cheeks --this is either from general mistreatment or the three times i remember getting them slapped off my face (twice by my best friend at the time [once because i said something that came out nastier than i intended and the other time was a re-enactment gone wrong] and the third time was self-inflicted [enthusiastic fly shooing]).

i know you're supposed to donate old frames to charity, but i'd feel kinda sorry for the person who ended up with mine. i envision all the other kids in a third-world country getting near-mint ex-shop stock, or last season's fashions from someone with that much money to waste, or the carefully cared for pair of a nanna who was too proud to use hers except for on weekends. then some poor little soul ends up with my wonky scratched ones. and i beget another owl librarian.