Of Boys, Bears and Bifocals

 
With the privilege of pre-breakfast gaming abolished, Trevor-the-wee-lad found staying abed an acceptable option.
He and Nolan explored the potentialities of their light-up plastic swords.

Pooky Bear remained his taciturn self.
__________________________

I called the eye doctor's office first thing this morning and explained my problem and they are ordering a new left lens for me. It's the lab's fault--which shall remain nameless--and how much you wanna bet they don't make it the right, again ?

Ma tried to get incontrovertible proof of the less-than-stellar labwork.

Not the greatest picture, I admit, but you should be able to get a hint of several of the cracks along the edge of the lens. It took a lot of trying to even get this bad picture...
...and I was wrong about the number. There aren't ten cracks, there are at least twelve.

Ma's explanation for the boo-boo...see the screw to the left that tightens the frame around the lens? See how it doesn't quite bring the two pieces of the frame flush?
Having cut the lens a tad big, the ignorant peoples at "the lab" tried to squeeze that baby in anyway, ("KEEP TRYING, Bernard...it has to work!") and upon aggressive crunching "to make it fit," they inadvertently produced the stress cracks.

It's really hard to believe they didn't notice this.

Ma is in the process of being appeased however, and I can hardly wait to fill out my next evaluation for "the lab," heh heh.

I must say though, it is terribly nifty to be able to read without having to lower the ol' specs on one's proboscis.
 

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