Remember the reoccuring cubicle-induced-dream of retiring and fishing whenever possible? With prudent financial planning that is a real possibilty, but the active element of retirement is the old part.

Not the good kind of old, like Hardy reels, bamboo rods and fine wine, the bad kind – where you squint to see a dry fly, and give up changing your fly at twilight.

In the waning hours of the evening, I force feed fish,  ignoring everything the fish and insects are telling me – with the hope that one more stupid fish remains, who will eat my #8 Bird’s Stone thinking it was a well developed #18 mayfly.

I need glasses. Unfortunately, lots of them.

I need a magnifying set to tie flys, I need a polarized set for harsh sun conditions, I need a magnifying polarized set for waning sun, and a clear magnifying lens as darkness approaches. I need a system that keeps them close without entangling them in my vest, I need inexpensive, so that I can lose them in the water, torn from my grip by tree branches, or left on a car hood at night.

What’s needed is Viagra for vision, make that we need it, as you’ll walk in my shoes soon enough. Chemical treatment may have untoward side effects, as your fishing friends will insist that when afflicted with “…effects lasting more than 4 hours” – you get your own room.

I have an appointment with an optomitrist and am assembling a kit to demonstrate what I need them bifocals to do. I expect the same puzzlement and shrug as last time, so I am playing the Viagra trump card…”it’s been 4 hours Doc, wanna see it?”

I am counting on the receptionist diving clean through the sliding glass window..