"The Nearsighted Ninny," a parable

Once upon a time, there was a girl who ventured into the city of New York one summer Saturday. By the end of her adventurous day, she was grateful to sink into the backseat of a cab and simply watch as Museum Mile, Columbus Circle and Times Square sped past her tired, heavy-lidded eyes. When the cab pulled up to Penn Station, she scooted out of the yellow chariot without a backwards glance--thus unable to see that her beloved eyeglasses lay forgotten on the black pleather seat. Alas, the poor dimwit was no princess, so hopes of a dashing young prince finding the glasses and returning them to her were nil.

Realizing her blunder minutes before the train left, there was no chance of recovering the forgotten glasses. For a week afterwards, the nearsighted ninny squinted over the steering wheel (though still fully capable of driving safely, she wishes to note) while pining for her black and red frames. When the time finally came to see her optrician, it was discovered that her pupils were not the same size. As if realizing she had an asymmetrical face wasn't disconcerting enough, she was directed to reschedule an appointment with an opthamologist for further insight concerning her Picasso eyeballs. Request to simply get another eyeglass prescription: DENIED.

Chaos ensued, frustration culminating as she screamed obscenities over Coldplay in the car after being told that she couldn't keep her most recently rescheduled appointment because she needed a referral from her physican. The nearsighted ninny felt completely foolish for losing her glasses in the first place.

Did she mention that there were no princes involved?

Moral of the story: Risk increasing your tool factor by wearing your eyeglasses on a cord, because when you go back to replace your dearly loved frames, heartbreak will ensue upon realizing they're no longer made.