Batching and broken glasses

It’s my wife’s fault that I broke my glasses. That’s what I think. Of course, Jenny doesn’t agree. (You were pretty sure she wouldn’t, weren’t you?) She says she was 475 miles away in northern Kentucky at the time.

Well, she was actually. But it’s still her fault.
It all started 10 days ago when we returned home late on a Sunday night from a two-week vacation. I got up and went to work Monday morning. Jenny scurried about doing two-weeks of laundry and our son Joe was supposed to mow the yard.
Unfortunately, it rained. I say unfortunate (Joe thought it was fortunate because he got out of mowing) because they left early Tuesday morning to drive to northern Kentucky for the week. Jenny goes up to spend a week with her parents a couple of times during the summer. They are in their 80s and she and Joe do some of the household tasks, such as scrubbing the awnings, they no longer are able to handle.
My job was take care of myself, two dogs, the cat and four fish. Jenny and Joe took Lizzie, our little brown-and-white dog, with them. She said it was because she thought it would be too hard for me to walk three dogs every day.
Everything went fine Tuesday night. Wednesday I decided I would mow the lawn after work. The grass was so high that I didn’t think I could leave it for Joe.
By the time I got done, I was exhausted. It was 92 and the sweat was rolling off my bald head down into my eyes. I thought I was going to pass out before I could get to the shower. After I got cleaned up, I went over to the bathroom vanity to get my glasses. They weren’t there. They had to be, I thought, because that’s where I always put them. I looked around the bedroom and the kitchen. No glasses.
Then I noticed something on the dark bedspread. Yep, my glasses, but the frames were mangled and the lenses had fallen out.In my rush to get to the shower, I must have put my glasses on the bed. I sat on the bed while I was getting dressed.
How stupid can I be? I thought. I was almost in tears. Then I remembered how I had given Joe a big lecture about not being careful when he had broken his glasses. Lucky for me he was in Kentucky; I probably could get new frames before he got back and he would never know.
I was in the dumps. I called Jenny and related my sad tale. Before I could ask her not to tell Joe, I heard her say, “Hey, Joe. Your stepfather sat on his glasses. Can you believe it?”
When I went to work the next morning wearing an old pair of glasses, I couldn’t read the computer screen without enlarging the type to 150 percent. I gave up and headed to the optical shop. My same frame was still in the display case. Twenty minutes and an American Express bill  later, I was on my way.
I concluded it was Jenny’s fault because I wouldn’t have mowed the yard if she hadn’t taken Joe to Kentucky for a week to help out. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

T. Wayne Mitchell, Gazette publisher, can be reached at 662-534-6321 or at