Would you believe, I
finally received email notification on the status of my eye glasses.
That’s twenty-four
days after the eye glasses were ready to be picked up, and six days after I got
tired of waiting to be notified and called THEM.
Better late than
never, I guess; and I do feel less culpable knowing it was not just my blocking
the automatic notification telephone number that held the process up because, inasmuch
as the vision center is emailing me now, they could have emailed me before.
After giving it the
old college try, I’m not happy with the eye glasses, but I won’t be taking them
back to the vision center to be adjusted. I’ll hang onto them as backup and
begin the process all over again as a way obtaining a second opinion on the prescription.
Much as I don’t want
to go back to the optometrist that provided the Sarah Palin eyeglasses, because
it’s a long drive to Upland and because there’s a guy there, not sure of his
position but, when I was last there having a frame repaired, he was snobby,
rude, dismissive, looks like I'm going to have to suck-it-up and head that way.
I’m sensitive to
“snobby, rude, dismissive” because I’m never quite sure if it’s because the
individual is just an a-hole or is treating me thusly because he's racist.
At any rate, I'll fortify myself and give snobby, rude, dismissive another
shot because I’m much more satisfied with the expensive glasses they’ve
provided in the past, that have served me for so long, than I am with the less
expensive ones provided by my medical provider’s vision center.
“You get what you pay
for”, right?
Would you also believe,
the morning after positioning the elephants on the counter, facing the front
door, the first payment of that windfall finally kicked in.
Coincidence?
I think not.
Because it took two
years for the company to track me down, advise I’d left money in the plan when
I quit 19 years ago, considerable back payment is involved in this first
payment. So much so that not only can I pay off what little debt I’ve incurred,
but pay off the monumental vet bill granddaughter racked up in a life-saving
operation for her Jack Russell Terrier (my great grandson Patches), with plenty
left over to keep my beloved Saturn going, or purchase a new vehicle
should it come to that.
I’m not a
materialistic individual, so while I await the recertification period for
management to let me know whether or not I must relocate, as the increased
income renders me ineligible to continue to live in this restricted-income
complex, or whether I fall under the “grandfather clause” and income does not apply,
the only other indulgence I see happening as a result of this windfall is,
instead of the less expensive store brand eggs, I’m upgrading to the more
expensive Eggland’s Best, which I’ve always preferred but previously had only
indulged myself when on sale.
Other than that, I’m
just going to sit here and bask -- for the first time in my life, in what in mystical circles is known as Ease of
Matter -- not having to worry about money, not having to think about money, not
having to budget every penny, financial needs met with plenty left over to spare
and to share.
On tap for today is
more creativity. I saw a woman in the market with a graphic tee I admired.
Unable to find it online in my size, I’m going to try to locate the graphic's
image, capture it, print to a transfer sheet and iron-on to one of my Duluth tank tops.
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