Mr L has lost his lenses. Maybe they are lost; perhaps they never arrived. Whatever the case, they are nowhere to be found. Admittedly, he is looking for them, as we say around here, without his eyes in.
Poor Mr L has awful eyesight; his eyes were damaged in childhood by that foul disease, the measles. One eye is all but useless, the other is not much better but works with a lot of correction. For most of his life Mr L wore horrible specs – real jam jar bottom jobs. Then he discovered that he could actually get contact lenses to his prescription. He never looked back, liberated from specs for the first time in his life… until the day that age got a hold of him and he found that he now needs his basic correction lenses, with reading glasses on top.
He gets monthly lenses, sent out every quarter by post. The normal routine is to remove his lenses on the last of the month and he is supposed to take a 24hr breather. In actual practise, he puts his new lenses in when he gets up on the 1st of the month. He knows this is not good for him but he hates wearing his glasses so much that he cannot bear them on his nose (a long story, involving a mugging) for longer than it takes to get showered and dressed. He has vari-focals that he is supposed to wear when the contact lenses are out – he cannot get on with them and they cause him real problems at the computer. This being so, he has previously robbed them of a screw, in order to fix an older pair of single vision glasses that he wears for driving.
The end of the month passed us by this time and it was Monday night when he remembered to change his lenses. The old ones came out. Yesterday morning arrived and… the lenses could not be found. Not anywhere. With a conference call set for 09:00 and the consequent requirement to be able to read his computer screen and paper notes, this was a major crisis.
He rang his lens provider and they are sending a new pack out, but this will take longer than a week to achieve.
He went into his meeting wearing a pair of glasses that require him to tilt his head up to the ceiling in order to view the screen through the bottom third of his spec lenses.
I sat down with his other glasses, a box of assorted screws, and the jewellers screwdrivers.
I managed to cobble a repair together and he is now wearing specs that kind of work for him but give him pain. I suggested he take a week off work if necessary but his workload will not permit that at present. So I issued instructions to take a break every 20 minutes or so, get up from the computer and take his glasses off.
Last evening we went to bed at half past six.
You see, there is nothing he can do without glasses on and he could not bear to wear them for one moment longer. The only recourse was bed, and 6 Music. This looks like being the drill for the week – he’s not safe walking around with non-functioning eyes and has not enough vision to watch a film on the lappie. I am going to organise some way for us to listen to my audio books in bed, for some variety.
This is all a very long-winded way of saying that wifely support mode is militating against knitting progress. Otherwise, I would be reporting that High Seas is half done. It is not, it is one-third done, and not going to make much progress for a while.