Admittedly, the last year or so I’ve had trouble reading the tiny type on shampoo bottles and CD liner notes.
But yesterday, sitting on the couch, reading a hardback book in what must be 12-point type, I found I had to move the book farther away.
I couldn’t believe it. I played with it for awhile. Bring the book close to my face—type goes all blurry. Pull it away—it reappears, all clear.
I know this happens to just about everyone on the planet who lives to their Middle Ages. But you’d think people who’ve had bad vision all their lives would be cut some sort of break.
OK. Whine over.
On the plus side, it’s my twenty-first wedding anniversary. (With any luck at all, I’ll be able to read the dinner menu.)