Presby-What? Oh. Opia. The Stigmata? Me? No. Astigmatism! Oh. I See.

The chap who wrote the title can obviously see better than I at the moment. I’m taking touch-typing to  new lows—I’m calling it feel-typing, to tweak the standard hand-eye metaphor. I say that ’cause I can see only a white, rectangular blur in front of me, on which I can just make out that there are two thumbs and eight fingers. See. I ‘misplaced’ my only pair of glasses two days ago. New pair expected in 10 days to 2 weeks. Lucky me. Lucky you! All I have is a cheap pair of readers in the interim, which does nothing to correct for my astigmatism. As a result, after ten minutes at the ‘Mac it feels like my head is gonna asplode.

My sincere apology. As if my presence here hasn’t been too little for too long, I don’t hold out much hope for anything seriously useful to the discipline [or my deceased, but ever-proud and watchful mother] until the aforementioned new spectacles are resting on my beak.

Perhaps this little animated vignette will better illustrate what I’m talkin’ ’bout.

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