Irritation

Did I mention that I lost my glasses?

They must have slipped out of their case when I leaned over and they were in a smaller pocket of a different jacket I began wearing.

What I have left are tiny pince nez of a heavier prescription that were once my mother’s.

No help, there.

Or, I have the ones I am currently using, which my father bought me 5 years ago in the summer of my “breaking free” in 2016.

Yeah, well, they fell a while ago – and guess where they landed?

Exactly dead center on the lenses, over where my eye holes look forward.

Yep.

So, I am typing anything I care about while dodging and angling to see around these scratches blurring and fogging.

I can only partially see through tiny patch-swaths of clarity around the edges.

No, I don’t have $15 to replace them.

AA!AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

And, have I mentioned what a feck-ing pain it is to type quickly on my phone and look back on my work, only to see intelligent scripture left in a swath of visual garble?

Which bright bastards decided to eliminate my beloved, textural feedback system of actual click buttons?!

I want to disassemble all their beloved functionality for a day – or how about whenever they really need it in moments of precious inspiration – over and over and over again..

Would they then get the message while consumed by their vexation to restore my keyboard to me?