F T Z O 4

There was an eye chart on the far wall. Somewhere. Or so he said.

Yes, it was time for the annual eye exam. I'd rather go to the dentist, truly; my teeth are perfect, my eyes not-so-much. But that is exactly why I really need to go.

To my surprise, it was Dr. Yale who would do my exam. His son Eric, who is nine months younger than I, is the principal in the practice now. Assuming Eric is the oldest child, and assuming he wasn't born while his dad was an undergrad, Dr. Yale has to be at least seventy. Dr. Yale did my exam four years ago as well; he was able to correct my vision with contact lenses to better than twenty-twenty. I was much less freaked out at having him do the exam this time than then.

Aside from the excellent eye care, there is another reason I kind of like having Dr. Yale do the exam: flattery. During the course of the exam, I was told that because I am extremely myopic (I see clearly for almost six inches without any correction), I must: 1. have been a good student, 2. be a great reader and 3. be of higher than average intellectual ability. He said there is scientific evidence to support all this.

I'm all for that kind of science.

Naturally, this was before I went to order a new pair of contacts. Let's just say I don't have to worry about stocking up on contact lens solution and tylenol at year end to run down my flexible spending account.

Glasses will be ordered in January (after both the insurance and flexible spending reset). It should only cost me the equivalent of two car payments. After the insurance pays their portion, of course, and if I reuse my six-year-old, barely worn nice Ralph Lauren frames.

"Oh, but we are just putting out some cute, fun new frames, so you might not want to reuse those," the tech said.

Shoot.me.now.

I guess it's worth it to get nice, pretty glasses that I won't mind wearing (at least to work). The contacts really shouldn't be in longer than about 13 hours; I typically have them in for 15 to 16. There is an added advantage to waiting to order - I'll be able to see what I look like in the darn frames. Ever try to pick out glasses when you can't see more than six inches (contacts out for the exam) and your eyes are dilated to drug-addict proportions?

Oh, wait - not that I'm getting new frames. Um, no. But it couldn't hurt to look.