broken things

On my way to class, I look at my watch.  8:05am.  I left my house at 7:55am and I’m almost there.  Even with less traffic on a holiday weekend, there is no way I could take a crosstown bus and then a subway five stops and have it take ten minutes. I just had the battery on my watch replaced two weeks ago.  Either the battery is defective, or worse, the watch needs to be repaired.  I’ll know in a week when Chopard gives me an estimate.

In class, I take my glasses out of their case.  They look like this:

I  wear them throughout class and look ridiculous. Later, I go to my eyeglass place and learn they cannot be repaired.  I now need new glasses, new lenses, and I may as well get an eye exam as I think my current prescription needs to be updated.

I meet my mother who is back in the city for a final fitting on the gown she’s wearing to Jason and Amanda’s wedding.  She notices that the lefthand strap on the tote I use to transport my heavy book and notebook back and forth to class is unattached.

I hate when things break.  Especially things that require replacement or repair.  I mean, I could live with one less plate.  But not my tote.  Not my eyeglasses.  And definitely not my watch.

My sister and Abbey meet Alexander, my mom and me for dinner at Atlantic Grill. It's a nice end to an annoying day.