Lost and Found

One or another of Fiorella's eight pairs of glasses is always lost, which is the reason she has so many of them--three for distance viewing with her current prescription, two distance models with her old prescription, one up-close anti-astigmatism type for playing the piano or reading, and two pairs of cheapo non-prescription sunglasses.  Right now she's looking for her prescription sunglasses.  They've been missing for two weeks now, but Fio still has hope.  After all, yesterday Husband found her notes for a review of Georgetown Palace's production of Cats that had inexplicably disappeared on their way home from the theater.

Coming attraction:  The Cats' Meow. 

Darkness at Noon

The morning started out bright, then darkened suddenly as a rainstorm pummeled Fiorella's windshield while she was on her way to Austin.  Experienced in bad-weather driving, Fio took her foot off the pedal and kept the car aimed straight ahead until she caught sight of a broken white line, then rode the side of it carefully for the next five miles.

The other cars had slowed down too, but not as much as Fio. What was her problem, and why was everything so dark?

Oops.  She still had her sunglasses on.