When I walked back into the house, I noticed something on the steps in the entryway. It was an eyeglass lens. I wondered how my son didn't notice something like this, but I never questioned that it was his. It was all scratched up and dirty - had to be his. I quickly called his teacher and reached a substitute that will be in the classroom all day. I explained the situation and told her I would run the lens down to school, and I may need to take his glasses and get them fixed today.
I drove to school, signed in, explained in detail why I was there, and walked down to the classroom, lens in hand. I met the substitute who gave me a funny smile and explained that Joe's glasses were intact. I looked at the lens, made sure that my son's glasses were indeed fine, and made a joke about things being a bit lax at our house. The substitute gave me an uncomfortable smile and a twittering laugh that seemed to scream "Give a wide berth to the crazy lady!" I smiled at her and left.
I cannot figure out where this eyeglass lens came from.
Evidently my life isn't bizarre enough already . . .