Lost Glasses

Two Wednesdays ago, I went out to do my wash.  I brought a book and sat reading and drinking my ginger ale I had bought across the street.

Wash is a pain in the sense that, the times that I have money and time to do wash, hardly ever meet.  As a result of this, my wash piles up terribly.  More than many things, I wish I had a washer and dryer.  Or at least a washer and a place to hang my clothes. 

The place I do wash is a 15-20 minute walk which is especially annoying when wash has piled up to the extent that mine always does.  I often do my wash after work when I'm already halfway there.  It's hard to say what I prefer more.  Not having to bother with three-hour chores on my day off or adding three-hours to an 8-1/2 hour work shift. 

So two weeks ago, I was doing my wash and as I pulled my finally finished clothes out of the dryer, it began to rain.  Correction.  It began to pour. 

I wasn't going to wait around.  I had songs to practice on my ukulele before it got too late! 

So I put my glasses in my laundry bin and started on my way home.  Once I was home, I could not find my glasses.

I thought that my glasses were safe.  My wash was not overflowing from the bin.  I guess my glasses must have fallen out through one on the spaces.  I didn't think that the spaces were big enough for my glasses to fall out but I've been wrong before and I was wrong again now. 

I walked back and forth a few times trying to find them.  It's annoying to have to look for missing glasses in the dark because you can't see!  I didn't find them.  I am now wearing my contacts. 

Prior to this loss, I wore my contacts about three times.  I didn't really care for them.  I've now learned that there is a right way for the contact to go in and wrong way.  Between taking the contact out (which is a bitch) and putting the contact in the solution container, they must sometimes get flipped around.  It's really uncomfortable if the contact is in wrong and it's not always noticeable right away. 

Since losing my glasses, I've gotten comments and compliments.  When people hear the gloom in my voice from my missing glasses, they insure me that I look better without them, which is sweet of them. 

I had those glasses for six years.  They were very me.  I saw lots of amazing things with them.  Shooting stars.  Birthday parties.  Good and bad movies.  Conan O'Brien.  Tina Fey. 

In the end though, my glasses were just a thing.  Perhaps they have made it to a river and are helping a poor, farsighted fish see.

"Conan and Tina are in love!"

Despite my best intentions, I am still a selfish person at heart.  At least, sometimes I am.  But, I still put in the time to allow myself to be selfish.  Point in case, volunteering at the library.

Two or three months ago, I met a friend at the library to hang out.  As we were leaving the beautiful, historical building, my friend stopped to look at a volunteer flier.

"You can meet Tina Fey that way," the nearby security guard informed us.

There are only three names that I would have cared about in that sentence.  Tina Fey was one of them, Mel Brooks and Conan O'Brien were the other two.

I took a flier and filled out an application at home.  I made a special trip to the library on a rainy day to drop the form off.  I scheduled and went for an interview to volunteer.  I was accepted as a volunteer.  Upon my acceptance, I was told that the Tina Fey event was full, even for volunteers, but I still did not give up.  I thought I could charm my way or sneak my way into the Enchantress' event.  I told my work I would no longer be available on Tuesdays because I was volunteering at the library.  Really, the library was very flexible, I just wanted to be sure I'd be free on Tuesday because that's when Tina was coming.  Requesting off didn't seem like a demanding enough way to be sure I wouldn't be scheduled.  I volunteered for three author events.  I posted Book Festival posters around the city in coffee shops and grocery stores.  I kept the volunteer coordinator updated to the places I left our advertisements.  April 12th came, and so did the rain.

My shoes and pant legs were soaked by the time I finished my walk to the library but I was excited because after all my planning and hoping, the day was finally here.  I lied about the planning.  I didn't really have a plan.  I was just hoping they would let me stay.  The worst thing that could happen was they would tell me to, "Beat it, Kid!  Go home!"  But they didn't.

Upon seeing me, the kindly volunteer coordinator asked what I was doing there.

"Just thought you might need some extra help if it got busier than you expected."

"Yeah, just stand here and don't let anyone go downstairs without a ticket.  And hand these out to anyone who wants them."  He gave me a small pile of brochures describing Tina Fey's many accomplishments and awards.

There were five rooms of people wanting to see Tina Fey.  The one downstairs would "see" her.  The other four would see a live simulcast.  I was in one of the other four rooms.  Tina Fey came on the stage after four people introduced her.  Although I wasn't seeing her in the flesh I was excited to be seeing her just the same.

Tina Fey talked about her book and her different inspirations.  She really inspired me.  I can't point to anything in particular that inspired me which sounds very lame to be so broad about something so profound.  But, I felt changed after the talk.  I felt renewed.

As her talk began to wind down, people started lining up to get their book signed.  For book signing, there were a few rules:

1.) Ms. Fey was only signing the book.  Nothing else.
2.) There was a 5 book limit.
3.) No personalizing.
4.) No pictures.
5.) Very little to no small talk.

Reading these rules makes the Greek Goddess seem rigid but if you had seen the line, you would understand.  This line was long.  It easily could have gone on for hours and hours but because there were rules, it went on for about a half-an-hour.  Not too shabby.

Because I was a selfless-volunteer, I felt entitled to break the rules.  And because my sister had been giving me the silent treatment for literally months (two months and counting), I was determined to get my book signed for her.  Whatever I had done (which is still a mystery to me) would have to be forgiven with something as meaningful as a signed Tina Fey book.  I stuck a post-it on the cover page and after assisting as much as volunteerily possible, I added myself to the end of the line.

By this time, there wasn't much longer to wait.  I started a conversation with a girl about my age who seemed to be something of a Tina Fey groupie.  I don't think they have sex, but this girl still does an awful lot of following.  This girl told me that she had met Tina at a Date Night premier and Tina had invited her to work for a day at 30 Rock as a production assistant.  As a struggling film graduate, I considered my comfort in callousness.

"Maybe if I became friends with this person I could...nope, can't do it."

Now, I was at the front of the line.  Already?!  Wait, I haven't mentally prepared!!!  But it was too late.  I handed my book to the dude in charge of the author events.  I had talked to him a few times and a few times I saw him as he shopped at my store.  So it was a little awkward when he open my book and removed my sneaky post-it note.

"I know a Mitchi," he said.

I wanted to say, "No you don't!  No one knows a Mitchi!  No one but me!"  But there wasn't any time and I was now standing before Her.

Quickly, I slipped my hand into the back pocket of my jeans.  Tina signed the book and I passed her my Social Security Card.  There was a serious-looking yellow-haired* woman standing next to her.

"That's not the book." She said, tapping at the card with her pointer finger, as if she has the only person who could realize this difference.  Tina was already picking it up and examining it.

"Won't it mess it up if I sign it?"  She asked in a parental way.

"Well, Conan's already signed it." I replied.  

"Okay."  She scribbled her signature onto my card and then drew plus-sign between her name and Conan's and a heart around their names.  She jested, "Now Conan and Tina are in love!"

"Thanks!"  I said.  "Mission accomplished!"  I thought.

I walked away happy.  My months of selfishness had paid off.  Now, how to get to Mel Brooks?

*I'm reading and enjoying the book now though I still intend to give it to my sister.  Tina Fey writes in Bossypants about how calling yellow hair "blond" implies extra specialness.  An interesting point.