To start off this message, my boots to shoes switch is everything I hoped it would be. My toes are toasty warm on the drive to work and my feet are comfortable in their brilliantly clean slip-on shoes when at work. It was pointed out, by a co-worker, that this was less of an eccentricity and more of an old man thing. They’re probably on to something there. And less than a week after they mentioned it, my mind grabbed on to another old man quirk.
I have been nearsighted since 5th grade. There’s nothing quite like giant glasses on a oversized middle school noggin sporting a giant cowlick. It was good times. At any rate, I’ve come to take a little pride in my eyewear. I spend the proportionate amount of money on something that will be displayed on my face 365 days a year. But, man, I rarely wear sunglasses. Dropping some cash on something like that seems like a waste.
Solution? Sunglasses that fit over my regular glasses. That’s right. Big honkin’ (honkin’? really?) old person sunglasses. Some $19.99 Blublockers. What do I care?
I’m going to wear these in my car. Not even a car. A minivan. It’s not like I’m picking up ladies or cruising the streets of Anoka with my football buddies. I work in a dank cube and sometimes the outside is just too bright. I don’t need to impress anyone here.
Solutions to problems come much more easily when you disregard what other people might think. There’s another thing. “Might.” What if people think these giant sunglasses look awesome? I mean, the odds are against it. But there’s a chance, right? I’m okay with any outcome. If I look like an idiot (99.9998% chance) or if I look super cool (0.1112% chance), I don’t care. I’m tired of squinting in to the sun. That thing is too bright. Maybe we could do something about that.