Well, folks, I had one of those moments that I like to claim a minor life victory. One of those times when things just seem to layer against you; just one thing after another. Claim those moments, own them and hold them as banners of triumph when you're feeling vanquished.
Anyway, this one, simple it may be, involves my glasses. My dear, sweet son decided it would be gloriously amusing to color my left lens...with a Sharpie. After a bit of research, which turned up all kinds of horrifying suggestions (rubbing alcohol, hairspray, WD40...on my glasses???), I finally turned to my creativity.
A dab of dishwashing liquid, rubbed gently upon the lens, the left to soak during the day. When I removed the glasses from the water...viola! No ink at all! So, I'm quite pleased with myself.
So, no, no, NO to the other solutions; they will damage your lenses. Gentleness, along with the universal solvent and time, saved the day.
Cheers!
This post gives me pause. Meetings, the infernal overwrought obsession of our lives. It's not just corporate America, but the various groups and org's I've dallied with over the years suffer from meetopia, too. No one I know likes the blasted things, yet I don't know anyone offering up a successful resistance. Related to this, methinks, I have noted that I do a great deal over my workdays (check off a ridiculous number of to-dos) and accomplish little or nothing. The mass of tasks don't roll up to anything. And I've noticed a lingering sense of frustration lately. I spend precious little time reflecting on my goals, and how I can link them to what I do over the course of any given day. I'm so divorced from this, I really wonder what I really want to do, to accomplish any more. Within a recess of my brain comes a niggling thought. Perhaps this passion for meetings offers up a substitute for reflection. Knowing that we must account, personally, face-to-face f...
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