Into The Haze

As I gazed into a world consisting of more fuzziness than the federal government’s accounting practices, I realized that if I’d have been born a few centuries ago, I would have long since met my end by unintentionally walking right off the edge of a cliff.

I was sitting at the eye doctors at the time, while they did some work on my glasses. This left me to rely on my natural vision, which is a bad thing. The world no longer consisted of objects, but more of random hazy splotches that occasionally moved about, sometimes startling me. As I patiently waited for my spectacles to be returned to me, I realized that if the workers suddenly turned evil and didn’t give them back, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Wait, I take that back, what I mean is couldn’t do anything useful about it. I could try to threaten them, but I wouldn’t even know if I was facing in the right direction, or I could try physical action, but I’d probably end up tackling a coat rack or perhaps a wall.

That’s when I began to wonder what it’d be like if I was born before glasses were invented. Hundred of years ago, the average lifespan was much shorter, and most people attribute it to lack of advancement in the medicinal fields, along with grocery stores and Monday Night Football. However, I’m pretty sure that a large part of it had to do with people who couldn’t see very well who'd wander around until they ended up in the middle of a cattle stampede or something.

If I had no means to correct my vision, I’d basically be toast. I’d be able to notice any danger within six inches of my face, but beyond that it’d be like looking at a watercolor done by a two-year-old with a short attention span. (Wait, is “two-year-old with a short attention span” sort of redundant?) Luckily, in this modern age I don’t have to really worry about this, assuming, of course, that the people at the eye doctors keep from turning evil on me. Maybe I should slip them a few bucks every now and then, just to keep them on my side.