My Dirty Glasses

I'm not quite sure why or how, but every time I turn around my glasses are dirty. I never remember touching them or fiddling with them or brushing against them, but somehow they get dirty. I recently got a new pair of glasses and my last pair were so scratched up that I could hardly see out of them. And since I'm horribly cheap, no matter how bad they would get, I would refuse to replace them. So I turned-over a new leaf and decided to really take care of this new pair.

The kind gentleman at the optometrist office suggested I use these ever present microfiber clothes to clean the glasses instead of my shirt tail so I asked for an extra couple of sheets. Before I made it to the care leaving the doctor I already needed to clean them. So I decided, I'll leave one of the clothes here in the car.



Pretty soon, I had microfiber clothes strategically placed everywhere in my life I may need them:

1. Two at my desk, one on each side of the table.

2. One in the drawer of the table next to my favorite TV-watching seat.

3. One in the center console of the car.

4. One on my bedside table for reading.

5. One in my backpack for traveling.

It was after typing this list that I realized (once again) I'm becoming more and more like those crazy old men with their crazy coffee cans full of nails and screws and piles of coupons. Sheez...