Both of my parents have vision problems: one’s near-sighted and the other one’s far-sighted. I have this stupid small-talky joke I make about how they averaged out for both my brother and me so we have vision without any sort of complications.

The joke goes on that my parents’ vision is getting worse to the extent that my dad now has bifocals, and I’m certain that when I turn forty my eyes will simply explode out of my head, as the warranty will have expired by then.

A recent conversation about vision with cookiemonger about vision and eye problems and genetics (our conversations go all over the place) arrived at personal anecdotes about deteriorating vision, and the signs thereof.

Which left me with something to ponder when I had trouble reading size-five typeface from two feet away. Now really, if I can read a size-five of anything from any distance, I should be well and truly confident in my vision, and for the most part I am.

Still, I think about it. Then again, I remember when I would conserve space on printer paper by using size-five and size-eight type, and being worried about my vision when I was … oh, I don’t know, eight to ten years old. I’ve always worried about that stuff.