If It Weren't For Blind Luck I'd Have No Luck At All

My mom had the nerve to ask if I had a better day today. Um. No.

It started when I stepped into my classroom this morning and saw that my desks were out of place. Twenty-five desk-moves later, I put my lunch in the mini-fridge and carried my old red free teacher bag emblazoned with Office Max to my desk. I pulled out my glasses case, the one holding my precious bifocals through which I cannot see despite eight visits to The House of Charlatans Optical Delusions Emporium and Professional Prevaricators Shoppe. I pried open the case, reached for the magnifying glasses to the windows to my soul, and found....

THE LEFT LENS LAYING NEXT TO THE FRAME!

Lucky for me that the tiny screw was also rolling around in that spectacle coffin. Of course, without my glasses, I could not see to put the screw back in my glasses. Just this week, The Pony and I had bought TWO glasses repair kits at The Devil's Playground. One was at home in the kitchen of the Mansion, and the other was in a side pocket of The Pony's backpack. I thought of calling the Newmentia office so the secretary could announce for The Pony to report to my classroom. But I didn't want to embarrass The Pony.

I grabbed the lens and put it in the frame and pinched the two metal pieces together. I squinted really hard, and managed to grab the tiny screw between thumb and forefinger. As luck would have it, I positioned the screw in the vicinity of the hole, and it dropped right in on the first try! Mind you, I couldn't see it. But the screw was not rolling around on my desk. I stuck my fingernail in the general vicinity in an effort to turn that screw a couple of quarter-turns. Just enough to keep my lens in the frame, until The Pony could doctor it after school. I felt a tiny crack, turned my fingernail a tad, and repeated several times. The lens held. I vowed not to open and close the earpieces all day.

After school, The Pony informed me that the repair kit was in his laptop backpack in T-Hoe. He went to fetch it. Since The Pony could see just fine, I held the glasses while he turned the mini screwdriver. That little kit even had four assorted mini screws inside the clear tube, along with a couple of nose-piece pads and a black rubber ring thingy. I know this, because The Pony wanted to get the screwdriver out again, and promptly dumped the entire kit 'n' caboodle onto my desk, my teacher text stack, and the floor. Woe was me. The Pony knelt down and searched for five minutes while I was afraid to move. He found everything except one tiny screw, the size needed for my glasses.

I gave up and readied my stack of papers that dared accompany me to the Kyocera. The Pony, under the front of my desk, crowed with delight. He had found the missing link.

There are none so blind as two customers of The House of Charlatans Optical Delusions Emporium and Professional Prevaricators Shoppe.