I've been wearing contact lenses since I was 13 years old in 1963. Back in those days they only had hard contact lenses - no soft lenses, disposable lenses, solar powered lenses, gilt-edged lenses, or anything else they have today - so hard contact lenses were what I got.  And what I still wear today.

And hard contact lenses were great for me.  I saw better, I looked better, and I could much better identify the bullies beating me up in seventh grade.  Life with contacts was and is good.

Except when you drop one.

The logical thought for finding a dropped contact lens would be to look where you dropped it, but contact lenses are anything but logical. Their secondary calling, beyond providing visual amelioration, is to confound and amaze. To that end, you have as much chance of finding a dropped contact lens anywhere near the spot where you drop it as you have of finding news on CNN.

I was taking my contacts out in the bedroom one night about a week ago when one flicked off my long (!) eyelash, ricocheted off the bureau, and took off for points unknown. So, I got down on my knees and began searching through the carpet where I was standing.

No Little Lens Lost.

I got a flashlight and widened the search throughout the room. Parsing carefully through virtually each one of the carpet fibers, I found pennies, dead bugs, and enough dust to give a can of Pledge nightmares.

No Little Lens Lost.

I patted down my clothing to see if it had alighted upon my person as sometimes does happen.  I patted down my clothing so thoroughly I became aroused.

Still No Little Lens Lost.

I next widened the search almost throughout the entire house.  For the lens to have been in some of the areas of the house I was searching, it would have had to ricochet into cannon about to be fired. 

Yep, you got it.

So, I called the eye doctor's office to have a new lens made.

"Hi, this is Perry Block.  I need to have a new left contact lens made."

"I guess you dropped it, huh, Perry?"

"Yes, that's it."

"Too bad!  It could be anywhere then."

"I know that."

"Did you look in Center City Philadelphia?"

"Don't be cute!"

"They do turn up there, just sayin'."

"Well, I was nowhere near there!"

"As if that makes a difference!  But don't worry, sometimes when they slip into a parallel dimension, they actually return."

Several days later, my new contact lens was ready.  As I finished dressing on my way to go pick it up, there - right at the spot where I had dropped it the week before - was the long lost contact lens.

Read this next: Riding in Cars with Boys

"Little Lens Lost!" I cried out. "I searched that spot a dozen times and you weren't there!  Where have you been?''  

"I'm sorry, Perry, I cannot tell you," answered Little Lens Lost, now Found. "But I do have a message for you."

"What's that?"

"Your random socks say hello."

Perry Block is a writer, humorist, and human resources professional who lives in Havertown PA, just outside of Philadelphia.

In his humor blog , Perry Block: Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute (www.perryblock.com), Perry chronicles the world through the eyes of one Baby Boomer warily poised on the cusp of an age he thought was exclusively reserved for people's parents. It also features parody, satire, and anything else you want.

You can also find Perry on Twitter at @PerryBlock, Facebook, Google+, and whatever other internet sites he’s able to find an “Idiot’s Guide to.”