Blind, Stressed and Late

How are you, I ask,

Supposed to find,

Anything when your eyesight

Is as bad as mine?

I can search high and low,

Be it as it may,

But searching half-blind

Still takes a half-day!

“Did you search on the desk?

On the bed? On the floor?

Surely you’ll find them,

Surely I’m shore!”

But how can I find,

The glasses on my bed,

If the glasses I need,

Are not on my head?!

I pace my room carefully,

Can't move.

Can't sit.

Can't see.

I look in the mirror.

A blurred face peers back at me.

But wait! What is that?

Up there on my hat?

There is bread on my head,

Would you believe that?!

I run to the kitchen,

Eating crust on the way.

I am terribly late,

But a snack sounds okay.

Just as I thought,

The glasses were found!

Right on top of the toaster,

Not the bed, shelf OR ground!

So there they were,

Hanging on for dear life.

Half propped, and half popped.

Sigh.

Unplug.

Grab the knife.

If you’re laughing now,

You’re about to laugh harderer,

‘‘Twas the second time this week!

Glasses wearers are not smarterer...