I did the test reading with both + had them checked & fitted for how they sit on my head + picked out cases + sent the optician off with my credit card, and only then remembered to look in the handy desk mirror to see how I looked in them. I seemed quite crisp, with a detail of skin I'm not accustomed to seeing (as, say, from a distance in the foggy bathroom mirror). And guess what I discovered? Here's what: I now have a third whisker.
It's less than half an inch long at this point, but there it is. And it's in moustache-whisker territory, vs. the one side-chin one and the other under-chin one.
I like my whiskers.
Perhaps I'll give them names, and they can be my friends, along with my animals. I'll have Thanksgiving dinner with them. I'll buy them phones (all on the one family plan!) and we'll exchange funny text messages and especially emotional emojis. When things get bad, they'll convince me how alone in the world I'm not, on accounta there they are, with me. For special occasions I'll get them dyed different colors, like to match the French flag on Bastille Day, when we'll sing the Marseillaise like we're trying to drown out some Nazis, which won't feel so far off as it used to woulda. And then we shall all live happily ever after, until we don't.