Overnight the optician's appointment card, that has sat happily on the shelf in the kitchen for the last two weeks, has magically disappeared.
Fortunately, DH had predicted this very happening and had made a note of my appointment time on his online diary.
As I injured my knee on Sunday, DH decided to take pity on me and use the car park closest to the opticians, rather than follow our normal custom and street park half a mile away.
Only one problem.
We haven't used this particular car park since Sainsbury's moved out of the shopping centre MANY years ago, and more importantly, since they started charging for parking.
When the car park was built, getting on for fifty years ago, cars were smaller.
There was a clunk, as DH failed to clear the kerb of the unsympathetic right left-hand turn at the entrance to the car park. In celebration, he sailed right to the end of the first level.
"I think we should have gone 'up' there" I observed, helpfully, just after we passed the ramp.
We went down to the lower level.
Ahead of us was the exit.
"Don't tell me there is no way 'up' again..." groaned DH.
"Never mind, there are plenty of spaces to park..."
We walked over to the stairwell.
"The shops are on level 6" I announced.
"What!?"
I pointed to the sign.
There was no way I was hobbling all the way up six flights of stairs, so the lift it was.
To access that I had to walk up to level Two, but I could manage that!
Oh my! If I described the lift as smooth I would be lying.
Lift off began with a drunken lurch before the doors had even clanged fully closed.
DH and I looked at each other, making a careful note of where the alarm button was.
The arrival at level six was equally clunky.
We exited the lift quickly, with a collective sigh of relief.
We arrived at the opticians.
"Take a seat, there. " the assistant directed me, pointing to a seat facing the full height plate glass windows on to the shopping centre.
I.
Felt.
Like.
A.
Goldfish.
Why haven't they got any net curtains
or window displays,
or festoons
or blinds...
window art,
models...
anything?"
As I sat there, facing the world, I started to count the number of people wearing glasses, compared to those who weren't...
"One, two, three, wearing glasses.
One not.
A couple both wearing glasses,
another not.
Three - two wearing glasses...
One, two, three, four, five not. Contact lenses are quite popular, aren't they..."
"Just come back and get a refill when the bottle is empty," said the assistant.
"Did you have a leaflet about getting the lenses half price for a second pair of glasses?"
"No." Then I remembered.
"Actually, I think the assistant told me about it, but I discounted it, as I have blown my whole budget on one pair of glasses and wouldn't be having a second pair."
As I wear my glasses all the time, when I have had a second pair of glasses, they were never worn. I got used to the first pair and the others never felt quite as comfortable. even though they were the same style and purchased at the same time.
Not wanting to end up going head first down the stairs in the car park, I chicken out of wearing the new glasses immediately and put my old battered, dirty, familiar pair on.
Twenty minutes later and DH is paying for the car park. He doesn't know whether to be pleased that the process was quick, or whether to complain about the fact he has not used the full-time allocation that he has paid for...
We survive another ride in the clunky scary lurching lift.
At home, the glasses sit beside me.
I finally give in and put them on.
They feel different, but they are wonderfully clean. I can see!
Fortunately, they look so similar to my old pair, that no one notices that they are different.
That is just the sort of change I like.
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