Now, you may think me a competent person… What do you mean, you don’t? Goddamn! Anyhow, I have an inbuilt mechanism that makes me rather robotic. I can and prefer to do things a set way — it’s just the way I am.
As luck would have it, most things I do, I usually do right straightaway. If I do, I shall always do them right. I can write something, put that writing away, then come back a year later and continue with an exact same sentence that if I’d checked a few lines further on is already there. Freak!
In real life, I was and still am good at sport — I’m good at editing, too, because that was almost ‘sprot’ — particularly anything that involved balance. I loved football, rugby, cricket, running and the list goes on, and I’m lucky to say I was good at them all without ever really trying. I write this to illustrate that I am not a bumbler.
So, why tell you all these personal details and eccentricities? Answer: to highlight my failings. I’ve found my nemesis: reading glasses.
About six months ago, I bought my first pair of reading glasses. It never bothered me having to wear them and still doesn’t. If ever given the chance to wear sunglasses, I’ve always jumped at it, as the pinching effect on my nose and general lessening of glare helps me avoid the headaches that wreck my life. This has continued with reading glasses. However, and referring back to earlier, I do things a certain way. I also like things to be just so. I can’t stand my glasses being dirty, smudged, breathed on, or any other such impairment of vision. Unfortunately, from the very first time I touched them and because of my aforementioned foibles, I can’t stop putting fingerprints on them. I’ve done it wrong once and always shall. It drives me mad!
I can hold my glasses at their furthest points and slip them on my head from distance: they’ll be smudged. I can wipe away all forms of residue and have them breathed upon before they even get near me. I can use the softest cloths, the best wipes or even wear gloves and still my glasses will be smudged. It is failing I have. I am ashamed of this inability.
One day, I hope to correct this truly irritating quirk. I will approach my glasses case, unzip them, remove my specs and place them on my head to a view of crystal clarity and smile at my aceness (I just made that word up). ‘Tis a dream I have. Ah, one day.
I’m sorry if this baring of self has disappointed anyone, really, I am. If you view me any less, I apologise. But know this, by the time you’ve finished reading this story, I’ve already smudged my glasses enough times to make me red with rage. Yet still, I write. Yet still, I try.
King of Smudges.