Five minutes.
Sitting in the leather recliner, dog serenely in lap, phone in hand, reading the news about the Idiot for the Ages, when the dog launches from the lap and takes off after the cat, for apparently no reason at all.
Except this time there is a reason.
“Oh no,” comes the alarm. “There is a dead mole on the carpet.”
The household is obsessed with keeping the carpets completely free of dead animals, so panic sets in.
Swear words escape lips at this news and, naturally, in the commotion, the left lens pops out of the new eyeglasses, disappearing down the side fold of the chair. Many things have gone down that fold over the years, only some have been retrieved. Luckily, the lens hadn’t hit rock bottom but it was heading that way.
Unable to see ahead more than three inches, the hunt begins for the handy eyeglass kit with its screws and tiny screwdrivers. Blindness requires the head to be plunged into the junk drawer in search of the kit. Remarkably, it appears quickly.
The rodent, meanwhile, remains deceased on the living room carpet. The need to dispose of it outweighs the restoration of eyesight so double plastic grocery haulers are pressed into use to form a body bag for the poor creature. The cat will dine on mice all day long but he draws the line at moles. He is not to be blamed as moles do not appear to be eatable things. But at least a lifeless, bloodless body is not too terrifying to deal with.
Back at the kitchen table to put a screw into the eyeglasses. The original one is long gone so a replacement from the kit is pressed into use. It is too long and too thick but with the application of elbow grease, a half hour of time and twenty well-chosen swear words, the larger screw has managed to force its way into the too-small hole and the human lookers are once again able to see.
All of this activity has produced a blistering headache. A new bottle of painkillers is fetched. The manufacturer, just for fun, sealed the bottle so well it cannot be opened. As in never, ever. A sharp-bladed knife is needed to release the tiny pills.
A semblance of calm has finally been restored. The dog is hiding behind the couch, spooked by all the drama. The murderous cat is downstairs behind the water heater, probably chuckling to itself. The mole is on its way to rodent heaven.
And a few minutes more phone time back in the leather chair reveals the Idiot for the Ages is still an idiot.
©2018 Jim Hagarty
