Squinty
It was probably an "e", but when that turned out to not be the case I figured it was a "q". Alas it was ironically a "c", as in, I can't fucking C. Okay, I can see quite well and even the optometrist was overly enthusiastic about how excellent the blood vessels and pressure of my eyeballs was. Unfortunately time makes nerds of us all, and the year I turn forty will also be the year I get prescription glasses. To be used purely for computer work, late in the day...
Until now it was a good run. I beat so many eye exams in the past. I'd hoped that denial would get me through this one. All I really wanted was to get a pair of sunglasses for a discount thanks to the thousands of dollars a year I pay for health insurance. But you can't get the cheap sunglasses without doing the letter reading test and getting air puffed at your irises. And while I succeeded at the latter the aforementioned c tripped me up at the pointy end when the letters get smaller than anything I would need to read on a computer screen late at night. Alas.
After that I had to pick out a pair of glasses which was a wholly new experience for me and one that - as someone who had to google how to eat a fig in a toilet stall once - I would have liked some advanced warning for. Why does every pair of glasses make your eyes look so big? Something to tune for next time I guess.
I also got a pair of sunglasses for a discount. And I got my first chance in nearly 19 years since to make another IC joke. Ironic, given that it's years of internet computing that have probably done this number on my eyes.
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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.