The arm fell of my reading glasses;
I heard the ping of the screw falling
onto the table, but I could not see
it since my glasses fell off my nose.
I felt around on the table with my
hand, gently, until I found it.
For ten minutes, I searched in the
junk drawer for that tiny kit for fixing
glasses that I bought for this very occasion.
The box opened abruptly and the tiny
screwdriver and all the screws flew all
over the kitchen; I found the screwdriver
and I still had the original screw.
I remembered wondering what was wrong
with my mother when she squinted at stuff
when I was growing up; I found myself
doing the same thing, with similar results.
After valiant, but unsuccessful attempts at
repair, I used a paper clip to attach the
arm to the body of the glasses, stuck
them back on my nose.
Once I could see again, I gathered all
the little screws, reassembled the repair
kit and stashed it away for the next time,
knowing full well it would be as useful
next time as it was tonight.
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