Today the afghan gets shorter by the width of a thread.
Tomorrow it gets narrower…
Well, here they are–the magic numbers that will keep the hapless human female from running into walls or mistaking her boss for a safety shower. She has another prescription for computer glasses. (For avoiding non-vision-related blunders, she is on her own.)
The next step is for her to find a couple pairs of functional, beautiful spectacles. Ehehehehehehe. Oh, this has been fun! I have been exercising my talent for mischief at a distance, extending control over mortals and machinery in an elaborate ballet of frustration and incompetence. This is how it has played out:
1. She braves the concentrated humanity and tackiness of the local mall to shop for flattering frames. This is hopeless for two reasons: a) what her face needs most is a paper bag, and 2) I hid all the good ones before she got there She finds nothing she likes at the first optician. She finds a few pairs at the second shop. Of course, I arranged it so that the ones she really likes are not only NOT on sale, they are the most expensive in the store.
2. She presents her two prescriptions, only to find that the eye doctor has provided her with two copies of the *same* prescription. Ehehehehe. It was a simple trick for me to nudge their printer to eat the second Rx and print another copy of the first. The master touch? One of the copies is labeled "readers"–which she has not been measured for at all! Confusion reigns.
3. On the next available day, she calls the eye doctor and asks for a copy of her prescriptions. They won’t send it to her electronically! Of course, if she wants to take off work and go by their office and pick it up…. Finally, they agree to send it directly to the optician. (How long can I keep this up? Oh, I’ve barely started.)
4. After a few more days, she goes back to the shop to make her final choices. She looks at ALL the frames again. She should just face it. These are plastic and wire, not little miracle workers. Midgardians have a saying involving pigs and lipstick that would appear to apply in this instance. She finally decides to get two pairs made with the frame she likes—remember? The one NOT on sale.
5. The helpful clerk sits down to complete the order. And guess what?! They have no record of either of her prescriptions! (Can you tell I’m enjoying myself?) Seems they only keep them for about 24 hours and hers are long gone. Awww. She leaves them with a paper copy of the one prescription she does have and departs, thoroughly discouraged.
6. The next day, she asks the eye doctor to once more send her prescription to the optician.
7. The day after that, she calls the optician to see if the fax made it. Nope! Or if it did, they threw it out again. I have become quite adept at tinkering with fax transmissions from afar. It’s a skill I’m quite proud of, along with my ability to befuddle shop clerks.
8. While on the phone, she learns that they have not started *making* the first pair yet because she has not yet paid. Reluctantly, she pays for something she does not have in hand. And, even though the shop advertises "glasses in about an hour," it will be two weeks until they are ready, because I nudged her to get the *one frame* they do not make the lenses for on site! (Oh, I am eeeevil.)
9. The day after *that* she has the eye doctor fax the prescriptions yet again. A follow up call reveals that they have, in fact, finally arrived. Hurrah! (I find I have to let her have a small victory from time to time lest she give up entirely and deprive me of my fun.)
10. The optician later calls her back to ask what frame she wants for the second pair. They have no record of it. A confused conversation reveals that they have forgotten that they are meant to be *same* as the first pair, and they manage to dig that out of the computer. In two weeks, this pair will be ready.
I am exhausted, and the human female is now thoroughly discouraged and suspects that she will never actually GET either pair, or perhaps the shop will call and tell her that they cannot put her lenses in the chosen frames because reasons and she will have to pick out some ugly frames. Me, I am going to sit back, relax with a cool beverage, and snicker if they do both show up, because I am betting that since they will have the same frame, she will spend all her time squinting due to having grabbed the wrong pair!
Don’t let anyone kid you. Befuddling a human is a full-time job.
These are the human female’s spectacles. Ugly, yes? Trust me, they do not look any better on her. She does not have my symmetrical facial perfection. Her head is sort of lopsided, so one ear–and one earpiece–are higher than the other.
She’s getting old (ehehehehe,) and recently she has been complaining about having trouble seeing her computer and looking at her phone. The lenses are scratched and the frames are wobbly. The fact that I take every opportunity to leave smudgy handprints on the lenses, loosen screws, bend nosepieces, and nudge the whole apparatus off desks and tables* probably isn’t helping.
*Sometimes I hide them under the cat…
The human female’s new office space actually has two things the old one did not.
The first is some truly frigid air conditioning. Is that due to the vagaries of the air-handling system or the whims of a certain Frost Giant? That is a very good question… Either way, it’s funny to see her bundled in a wool sweater when it’s in the high eighties outside.
The second is a *window.* The old office did not have one. Ugh. With more daylight, I can really see how gray she is going. (I, of course, have nothing to do with that.) And she did not need more distractions (birds, clouds, bits of blowing paper, stray dust motes…) However, I can now keep an eye on the domain I mean to rule. I think I may need to blow up the ugly yellow building blocking the view, though. It is very old and missing a few bits of its ornamentation. I do not think anyone will miss it.
Sigyn and I are safely back from being dragged from pillar to post by the humans. The female returned to work only to be told she needed to move to a different office. I think she is being punished for slacking, because she is in a smaller room. She had to get rid of a whole book shelf and sort through all her belongings to get everything to fit. Boo hoo. Apparently she *hates* moving–too many boxes. Boxes and decisions. Boxes and decisions and furniture moving and sweating.
Ehehehehehe! There is no place for the white board!
I did enjoy watching her frustration. I suppose I could have helped her sort things out, but it was more fun to just hide a few critical items. We’ll see how long it takes her to figure out what’s missing. She’s not very bright–I’ll probably get bored waiting. Perhaps I will amuse myself by drawing on this very blank wall. There is probably a permanent marker in this chaos some place…
Well, I am glad I did not use one of the rings to go swimming with. Apparently they are meant to be comestibles. Question: If you had a ripe, crisp, juicy apple, wouldn’t you just eat the blasted thing, rather than torturing it in this barbaric fashion?
Oh, and the eponymous rodent, Buc–ee? He is a beaver. I am afraid I do not understand a beaver’s interest in motor fuel and snack foods.
When I come to rule this realm, I am going to straighten a LOT of things out.