If eyes really are the windows to the soul, mine could use a few squirts of Windex.

It’s getting so hard to see out of these things.

Yup, this is my way of admitting that I could use some reading glasses.

Everyone said it would happen.

Everyone was right.

And, I’m going to take a stab that most newspaper readers are in the same boat. So, how about I do us all a favor? Ready?

Hey there. Is this not awesome? It’s the next best thing to 96-point font.

Much better.

Don’t tell anyone, but half the time, I have no idea what I’m typing because I can barely see the teeny letters.

So, here’s my deal: I started wearing glasses at the tender age of 6 and have relied on some sort of visual aid ever since. It seems exceptionally cruel that now I require reading glasses on top of Mr. Magoo-strength contact lenses if I want to zoom in on microscopic print.

The first sign came a few years ago. On vacation in California at a family-friendly ice cream parlor, I completely misread a flavor that would’ve been decidedly un-family friendly. Sure didn’t look like “ripple” to me. After I voiced my horror, my kids pointed out my mistake. I laughed until I cried. The children submitted papers to be legally emancipated.

More recently my dad — because I am still 16 years old in my parents’ eyes — handed me a DVD and asked me what year the movie was made. I glanced at the back and immediately handed it over to the legit 16-year-old with perfect, uncorrected vision.

Reading medicine bottles, of course, is completely out of the question. I was really dismayed, though, when I couldn’t see the lettering on the box containing my new face soap. It didn’t seem that small. Then I realized it was written in Korean, so I couldn’t read it even if I could see it. Phew.

Grudgingly, I have been scouting reading glasses. In the process, I’ve come to realize it’s OK to not see little type as clearly because when you get to be my age, cue the schmaltzy violin music, other things — like what really matters in life — come into focus, and I can say this because I have discovered these totally cool, credit card-sized plastic magnifiers that are much less conspicuous than whipping out a pair of reading glasses. They’re like spy gadgets or something. They make me feel more Bond than biddy. But, they are small and now I seem to have lost track of them. Where did they go? They must bearound here somewhere …

Contact Kristen Cook at kcook@tucson.com or 573-4194. On Twitter: @Kcookski

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No. 3, on his own, changed his bedsheets because he says the fuzzy flannel ones allow him an extra hour and a half of sleep over the thinner jersey ones.