True, it was inevitable, but it still caught me off guard. I’m talking, of course, about my new go-to, can’t-leave-home-without-it accessory: my reading glasses.

Like most of us, I knew it was coming, but it’s one of those rites of passage that only happens to everyone else… until it happens to you.

I remember a few years ago when a friend spoke about buying a pack of eight reading glasses from a warehouse store. At the time I thought, Why would anyone in their right mind EVER need eight pairs of reading glasses? Well, as my brother used to say, don’t judge another until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins.

The reason for eight (or more) pairs of reading glasses has since become abundantly clear — as everything else held up close has become progressively more blurry: One’s reading glasses are simply never in the same place as oneself. There must be a Murphy’s Law of vanishing reading glasses, and if there isn’t, I can formulate one from personal experience.

My friend’s approach reminds me of how another brother handled his triplets’ 3 a.m. pacifier needs. He bought pacifiers in bulk and simply tossed a few handfuls into each crib, every night, on the assumption that the babies would come across at least one whenever the need arose.

I reasoned that having $2 Amazing Savings reading glasses scattered throughout the house and car would have a similar effect. But still, I somehow found myself glasses-less more often than I liked. With ingredient lists, preparation instructions, nutrition information, even price tags, all printed in increasingly smaller font sizes these days, it’s surprising how much close scrutiny is required for a simple trip to the grocery or pharmacy.

The solution? On my most recent birthday (clue: I’m not yet 50, but won’t be able to say that next year), I dropped a few hints to a good friend, who caught on and gifted me with just what I wanted. A reading glasses necklace thingy. Does this even have another name?

Now, you may need some background. I’m the one who — are you sitting? — brings a shopping (read granny) cart to the grocery store. In my defense, I live three blocks away from the store, all of them downhill. I’d have to be silly to drive a car and look for parking, and I’ve done more than my fair share of backbreaking schleps from the store with seven bags in each hand. So while it’s true that some of my kids will not be seen with me and my wheels, on the upside, once you’ve achieved granny-cart status, the sky is the limit and you’re completely free to do anything uber practical (sometimes defined as “nebby”).

So I now proudly sport my reading glasses on an unobtrusive black necklace worn from sunup to sundown — indoors and out. And I must say that it almost feels like having my full eyesight back.

(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 613)