One evening, I was pouring lemonade into a glass at the kitchen counter. My face was about six inches away, attempting to visually confirm I was lined up correctly. Instead of using the skills I watched my grandfather and mother use when I was a child — skills I have practiced periodically as an adult — I decided, rather confidently, to rely on my eyesight.
The new lens altered the perspective just enough that I misjudged the distance. I wasn’t pouring into the glass at all.
I didn’t realize this until I heard liquid dripping — and coupled with moderate hearing loss, I didn’t register it until there was already a puddle forming on the kitchen floor. I had created a modest but undeniable lake spreading across the linoleum.
When I looked down in chagrin, the reflection shimmering off the miniature lake revealed just how large the puddle had become. And then I laughed. Not a polite chuckle. A full, belly-deep laugh.
Had I used my established skills, there would have been no mess. No mopping. No sticky floor. But there also would have been no moment of delight.
Vision changes have a way of revealing the subtle places where ego hides — the quiet insistence that we can do something the “normal” way, even when we know better. Adaptation can sometimes feel like concession. It isn’t. It’s confidence-building. It’s effective strategy. It’s living independently.
Still, I’m grateful for the occasional small miscalculation that leaves me laughing at myself instead of frustrated. The floor was easy enough to clean. The humility was useful. And the image of imaginary Doodle Bugs sailing across Lake Lemonade was worth the price of admission.
We’ve cleaned up Lake Lemonade and covered the basics. Next week, Todd will share additional tips and tricks — the kind that don’t always make it into short lists. Come back for the next installment.
Anecdote – Desirée A. Christian
Do’s and Don’ts – Todd Fahulstrom
Leave a Reply