In which I get pumped up on rage...

Hello Readers,

Tonight I am writing to you from the state of All Worked Up.

Why am I All Worked Up?

It is a long and boring story, so I will try to give you only the important details in chronological order.

1. We have a great eye doctor for twelve years. Yay eye doctor!
2. We get vision insurance for the first time ever this year. Yay vision insurance.
3. Great eye doctor does not accept this insurance. Boooooohooooo our eyeballs!
4. Make appointment with 150 year old eye doctor who takes our insurance.
5. Become concerned that eye doctor is both outdated and controlling.
6. Order Rebecca's glasses anyway.
7. Fight with eye doctor about picking them up without Rebecca just prior to our Grand Canyon trip.
8. Assertively tell doctor that I am taking the glasses anyway.
9. Feel the eye doctor hate me, but enjoy having bullied him back.
10. Rebecca enjoys her glasses for four months until they break.
11. Commence swearing.

You know what this means, right? I have to go back and request that the glasses be replaced. I am also going to request a copy of her prescription so that I can order her some cheap but cute glasses at Zenni.

I do not think that he is going to give up easily. In fact, I predict a battle in which I have to summon my inner Julia Sugarbaker and demand that he either hand over the money, replace the glasses or prepare to feel my wrath.

No matter what happens, I expect to spend the night like a general preparing for battle, imagining the tactics, the weaponry and the sweet glory of victory.