The Blog Formerly Known As Practical Paralegalism
I should have had a clue when I bought a new wristwatch last week with a face bigger than my wrist. Because my wrists are the size of a second grader’s, I normally spend a little extra money for delicate Seiko watches with minuscule hands and no numerals. This time I spent less than $20.00 on a watch which looks like a classroom clock with a plastic strap. What was the appeal of this ugly accessory? I could see it.
So why was I surprised when I got to work this morning and could not read print? I mean, I read my morning newspaper, right? (I don’t want to talk about my “double-glasses” look just for hanging around the house – you know, reading glasses over your regular glasses, and your loving family laughing at you constantly and threatening to post your “double-glasses” picture on Facebook? If you’re really young, and don’t know, you might want to stop reading here.)
Once I realized my e-mails were blurry and all the medical records on my desk were indecipherable, it hit me that my main job duty as a paralegal is to read all day. Not only am I supposed to read well and quickly, I have to regurgitate what I read in a direct and meaningful way that convinces other people with monetary authority to give our clients important benefits, like medical treatment and weekly disability checks.
I called my eye doctor of 22 years in a panic. His wife manages his office and knows that I am so legally blind without corrective lenses, that 1-800-Contacts doesn’t stock my toric contact lens prescription. Once she ruled out the symptoms for alarming brain and cardiologic conditions, she cheerfully announced, “One day you don’t need bifocals, and the next day you DO!” As she made me an appointment for an eye exam, I stammered, “You really think it’s time for bifocals?” She said, “You’re 46. It’s time.”
My eyes burning (and maybe tearing a little after the “bifocals” word), I went home, thinking about how I’m going to have to introduce my co-workers to the ultimate in Steve Urkel chic, reading glasses over regular glasses, until my new bifocal glasses and contacts arrive. If you’re really only as young as you feel, today I feel like Grandma Moses. (With her amazing prolific painting, I bet she could see better at age 101 than I can now.)