Here I am in the sun, sitting on a bus stop bench and waiting for my optometrist to open. I got my first progressive lenses two weeks ago, and today I'm getting my second — several slight adjustments which ought to make them slightly less annoying.
For the most part I'm a fan of progressives. The wild distorted swimming in the lower corners of my vision subsided after a couple of days and, mercifully, no headaches: I had been worried, given my propensity for motion sickness every time I play Katamari Damacy. Not having to take my glasses off every time I read, write, use my phone or eat has been wonderful. However, I still usually do take them off, because they have only a thin range for close vision, right against the bottom edge of my lenses, and anytime I focus on a line of text, I can see two images of the second line below, divided by a change in focus, impossible to reconcile without blurring the line I'm reading. It annoys. Hence today's upgrade.
"In the sun" is a relative term. It turns out that inheriting California's weather patterns, under our brave new climate, brings with it California's risk of forest fires. Who'd have thunk it? —but here we are with our grand second-growth Pacific rainforest burning, and we city dwellers are reaping the smoke.
There's far more sun than your average summer, but far less, and for all the wrong reasons, than the drought last month which prepared the spark.