Dumbass!

We had a rather large limb fall off a tree in our back yard, so today I borrowed the landlord's electric chainsaw, hacked it up, and carted the pieces to the pavement where they will eventually be collected (according to a schedule we have not been able to divine).

I wasn't sure if it was wise or not, but I wore my old glasses to protect my eyes. Who knows whether flying chips of wood or flying shards of glass is more likely, but it seemed like a good idea. I'd take off my glasses, throw them down on the grass beside the chainsaw, cart some branches off, come back, put my glasses back on, and resume the sawing.

I finished, came inside, washed my hands, made a sandwich, grabbed a tasty malt beverage, and—of course—realized I wasn't wearing my glasses.

I combed the grass, back and forth. I went back to the huge mass of branches, and shifted them from one pile to the other, shaking each branch in the failing light. Nothing. Finally, I took a flashlight, and re-combed the grassy area, hoping that the glass or metal would reflect the light. Nothing.

Out of curiosity, I threw down my new glasses (carefully noting where, of course), and walked around, shining my flashlight to see whether they actually do reflect — no.

And there, as I gave up and bent down to pick up my new glasses, were my old ones, less than a foot away. Weird.

I'm sure there is some kind of meaning — I've been drowning in allegory lately. The disordered mess my room has been in for the last month or two feels most unfortunately allegorical. As do the juggling balls Jim has in the cube he and I are sharing at work.

Aah, but so are the George MacDonald books I've been reading, and the stories and pictures God has been showing me, and it's all good.

That's all for now. (Hi mom.)