Menocle [men-oak-al]; the condition of requiring optical assistance


One of the things (aside from memory issues) that happens with aging in general and worsens in menosoup, is the eyesight trembles.  Well, more specifically it blurs and goes all Monet and occasionally Mondrian.  Not fond of either of those but am also not fond of the dimmed eyesight. However, this lends itself to some of life's great wee moments.  Once, that would have caused the ground to yaw and the ego to grab at the heart as if to suck every squidgy little cell from it.  But spiritual life and menosoup combine to provide instead a sense of the ridiculous and the ability to laugh at oneself.

That can lead to fits of giggles and cheeks the colour of beetroot and the best bit is no one else knows the joke.  Just you and the Lord.  The worst bit is that very often there's no joke in it and it's just that you caught yourself out putting the Bhagavad Gita in the refrigerator.  No.  Worse would have been not catching it then going in search of the missing text when class came round again.  No matter how often you appeal to the Lord, He's enjoying watching the demise of your personality too much to tell you to open the fridge door.

At dinner time you discover the wayward volume.  Chilled in just sufficient places on the title for your spectacle-free eyes to read   
"B---a--d  -ita".  Not something you want to be told just before munching on a hunk of herby cheese.

Maybe that was the Lord's plan all along… upping the anti because there is no butter used here and no oven available (ref. 'Menomonomumal').

So, Dear Reader, which did I do; catch myself in time or suffer the consequences which resulted in a case of menocle?

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