Where had I put my glasses? More forgetful than normal, this was the seventh time I lost them this week. Yesterday, I left them in the fridge. I’m not even sure why, but I went to get some milk, there they were sitting in the middle rail, chilling.

I’m not sure why they were there, and what possessed me to leave them in such a weird place. I wouldn’t mind the side, because I often take them off, while I am washing the dishes.

I go into the front room, and they are not there. Not that I would locate anything there, it is such a mess. My husband doesn’t know the bin exists for putting rubbish in. The bathroom (I read in the bath). They are not there, or even in the bedroom. The last place I search is the kitchen, but my glasses have disappeared.

‘You seen my glasses?’ I ask my husband, when he opens the front door.

He laughs, which I don’t appreciate. I’m not the only one to forget things. Last week he forgot he needed to go to work.

‘What you laughing at?’ I shout.

‘Your glasses,’ he said, taking a tentative step towards me. He pulls down my glasses. ‘They’re on your head.’

Published by writerravenclaw

I am a fifty something mother of two grown up children, and one beautiful grandchild. I have been married for nearly thirty-four years. My first book was published ten years ago. I wrote my book Sticks and Stones because of my experience of being bullied at school.

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