Bravo ate my glasses this weekend. If you feel like you've heard me say that before, you're not crazy. He chewed them up a few weeks ago, but since I have no shame slash am too lazy to make an appointment with my optometrist, I've still been wearing them on a pretty regular basis. Wearing severely scratched lenses is fun if you imagine that your whole life is a Magic Eye puzzle.
This weekend he decided to go for the whole enchilada, and by that of course I mean he chewed all the protective plastic off the end of the left earpiece, exposing the deadly spike beneath so that if I tried to put them on I would gouge my own temple and die.
I was angry to say the least. It's not just the money, but mostly it's the money. Here's the deal: My insurance will pay for either one pair of glasses or one year's supply of contacts. Now I'm no mathmagician, but I'm pretty sure getting contacts is the better deal. Also contacts make me look prettier. But that's beside the point. So last year when I bought these glasses, the plan was for them to last until I could afford to pay full price for another pair, which according to my life experience so far is about four years.
So I guess sometime this week I'll head back to the eye doctor and pray that they have a decent set of frames on the discount rack, but in the meantime I made Bravo get a job to pay for the damages.