I was terribly disappointed this morning

when I accidentally stepped on/mangled my still-new-in-my-mind Kate Spade glasses.


Yes, those ones.

So now I'm back to wearing these old glasses from the 7th grade, and I feel significantly less cute. (These pictures are also a testament to the wonder of no-glare lenses, which my new ones have and my old don't.)


My mom and I are headed to the glasses store tomorrow to see if they can fix them or if we have to purchase a whole new pair.

If they fix them, I'll fear that they're more delicate and breakable after being bent and rebent.

And whether they fix them or I get a new pair, I'll forever fear that I will yet again break them and yet again feel that horrible sinking realization in my stomach when I hear them crack beneath my shoe.

On a not-at-all lighter note, this has also invoked my rage again against the doctor who thought a certain drug would help my legs and felt no need to tell me that one of the side effects is that "The eye tissue may become dry causing higher sensitivity and decreasing [contact] wearing time. The cornea may retain fluid and change shape, which may cause fitting, feeling and visual problems."

Um, good job, doc. The medicine helped not at all, and now I can't wear contacts. Thing #764 that my legs have messed up.