Marking A Transition Time: Bifocals Ahoy!

I’d been putting off going to the optometrist for months now, which is unwise for a boy whose mother and grandmother went blind due to macular degeneration. But I knew the signs: taking off the glasses to read close-up text.
I did not want bifocals.
Ah, but God has ways of forcing my hand.  When visiting a friend at her motel this weekend, I accidentally sat on my glasses after removing them to read some tiny text indeed.  Now I have skewed glasses that only fit on one ear.
And sure enough, presbyopia has indeed set in, and I need bifocals.  I’m told by many it’s not that bad; you get used to them quickly.  I wouldn’t know; because I go for the top-end bifocals with the UV protection and lightweight lenses, I have to wait a week for them to arrive.  I’m sure I’ll spend some headachey time next week craning my neck to look at things.
But it’s necessary.  I’m getting older.  And I wanted an entry to mark this day when I transitioned, because I am getting older.  I feel that friction of the sand running into the bottom of the hourglass.  And it’s not bad – I’m approaching the peak of my powers now, writing better things than ever, squeezing more things into a satisfying life.
The end of a grand meal is approaching, and we’re still well into the main course, but it makes me appreciate each bite a little more to know that the check is arriving.
But hey. Despite the fact that I couldn’t find the kind of glasses I like in town (metal rims without nose pads), these new glass frames are pretty badass:

For an old dude pounding on the keyboard, I’m still pretty hipster, no?
…oh well.