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The Glasses Menagerie

(Hey, look! News and stuff and crap to read!:

Okay, that's it. Back to the regularly-scheduled idiocy.)

Some questions can be answered with a simple thought experiment. Questions like, "Would habanero ice cream be totally delicious?" (yes) and "Should you tell Ronda Rousey she throws like a girl?" (no, no you should not)

Other questions, though seemingly simple, require careful experimentation to adequately answer. Here's one of them now:

"How many stupid pairs of sunglasses do I need to own to prevent myself from having to walk around in the glaring sunlight squinting like an idiot?"

"You've thought-experimented the shit out of this thing, and you've got a solution."

For many people, the answer to this question would be "one". I am not one of those people.

For other people, maybe the answer is "two". As in, one pair and a backup pair in case of emergency. I'm not one of these people, either. My entire life is a case of emergency.

"Aha," you might say, you dogged genius, you. You've thought-experimented the shit out of this thing, and you've got a solution. Maybe it's this:

One pair of sunglasses for every place where you spend a lot of time, so you'll always have one handy.

That's a great answer. Very well thought-out. And flexible for any situation. Examine your life, and solve for 'n'.

It's also wrong. At least for me.

I spend significant time in three places: my home, my car and my office. I own four pairs of sunglasses -- cheap, shittily-made ugly-ass sunglasses, sure, but sunglasses, nonetheless. And I never seem to have a stupid pair in the right place when the sun comes out.

Which is, like, every single goddamned day. Seriously, sun. Take a nap some afternoon. Earth can survive without you for ten minutes. Little breathing room, is all I'm asking.

The point is, the sun is bright. And I, evidently, am not. I drove home tonight with the white-hot wrath of the sun's radiation searing holes in my retinas because none of my idiot sunglasses was at my desk. Or in the car. Or in my pocket.

Once I got home, sure. I practically tripped over all the stupid sunglasses lying around here. With a bottle of aspirin and a half dozen condoms, I could run a frigging CVS out of my bedroom with the rack's worth of flimsy sunglasses in there. But they weren't where I needed them. And now I probably have eyeball cancer.

So I still don't know the answer to my question. But I know two things I'm doing tomorrow: shoving three pairs of shades into my pants when I leave, so I can leave a trail of the things behind me wherever I go. And?

I'm buying more shitty sunglasses. Maybe when I have a pair for every deliciously-charred nerve ending on my retinas, I'll be able to find one when I need it.

But probably not. Like I said, I'm not all that bright.