California’s General Trout Season ended last Friday — without my final, life-affirming trip to a nearby small stream.
Clumsy.
Thursday was set to be the last day on my nearby small stream, but Thursday morning I sat down at my desk, pulled my eyeglasses off, rubbed my eyes, and the right temple of my indestructible titanium eyeglasses just came off in my fingers.
Damn. (Note to self: metal fatigue is not our friend.)
I can’t really function without my eyeglasses (I’ve got barely enough uncorrected vision to find my ass with my own two hands). And in California, you can’t buy new eyeglasses with a prescription more than a year old, so I spent much of Thursday trying to line up an eye appointment.
And then most of Friday in Redding actually getting my eyes examined.
The Undergrounders will no doubt be relieved to know I’m finally joining the 21st century in terms of eyeglass style, though I suspect a few will be disappointed not to be looking at pictures of the last small stream trout of the year.
I know I am.
But then, whining about it isn’t particularly manly (take notes, Stienstra), so even if I went on a crying jag, I doubt I’d see much sympathy from the Undergrounders.
[SFX: crying, self-pitying noises]
“Gosh darnit, the only local waters open this winter are the Upper Sacramento and Lake Siskiyou. And [more sobbing] the Pit, Lower Sac and Klamath are like more than an hour away!”
(In lieu of flowers, please send donations to the PityMeFoundation.com.)
I’m sad I missed that last small stream trip of the year, but then, you never really know which trip will be your last. I suppose we should fish accordingly.
See you very little (or not at all until the shiny new eyeglasses arrive), Tom Chandler.
Clik here to view.
New frames. Just wait til the lenses arrive and I can see.
