Tuesday, 28 May 2002 | Frames

Trying on eyeglasses at lunch, by yourself, taking the word of a stranger working on commission. Careful not to offend him when he hands you a pair you hate, not really trusting him when you slide on a pair he says he likes. You think to yourself, the light seems awfully bad; are you sure you're this pale? Try putting your hair up, but that has little effect on the shape of your face. Perhaps you should've worn something neutral, black, anything but lime green. He hands you something that matches the two colors in your hair. Um, no.

Later, at the end of the day, you run into a store twice the size of the first store ten minutes before it closes and announce: I know you're closing, but do you mind if I quickly try on a few pair of frames on my own? and proceed to make your way through the rows and rows of supplemental eyes—scanning, unfolding arms, balancing lenses on your nose, refolding arms—at the speed that the Griswolds visit the Louvre. By the time you leave, you've only digested a small portion of what you'd tried to take in.

***

Food, sleep, music, and talking have not helped my incurable-mystery-unusual-bad mood today. I am prescribing myself more sleep.