Don't believe everything you read at first glance

I thought when I got new eyes at the end of last year that I might be able to make more sense out of what I was reading.

I had cataract surgery, as many of you have had, and I'm enjoying the freedom of not wearing glasses after more than 65 years.

Before I had the eye surgery, my eyesight was getting progressively worse, I have to admit. How bad? Well, I would read something and it would make sense. Then I would read it later and discover something entirely different.

That was particularly annoying while doing crossword puzzles. I use a ballpoint pen to fill in the puzzles, and I was having to write over my wrong answers way too much.

At some point in the year before we moved last summer, a house in our old neighborhood was sold. The new owners wanted to do considerable remodeling, so there were workers there for days and days.

One day a service vehicle was parked in the driveway. On the side it said "Cape Girardeau Title Company." Made sense to me that a title company might have good reason to spend some time at a property that had just sold.

But the truck was there for several days. And then for several weeks. I thought, "There's no good reason for a title company to spend that much time at one house."

Then it dawned on me. The title company wasn't there to do whatever it is title companies do. No, I had it figured out, by golly. The title company's truck was there because the owner of the title company had bought the house and was living there.

Having solved that mystery, I mentioned to my friends at coffee one morning that the owner of Cape Girardeau Title Co. had bought the house up the street. "What's his name?" I asked.

A few days later, one of the coffee drinkers said he had driven by the house in question and he might be able to shed some light on why the title company truck was in the driveway.

It wasn't because the owner of the title company also was the owner of the house.

It wasn't because the title company had official business at the house.

It was because the truck whose signage started this whole line of inquiry was from Cape Girardeau Tile Co.

Not Title Company.

Tile Company.

Honest to goodness, if I had been called to testify in court about all this, I would have sworn the truck was from a title company. Really, I would have. I might have spent the rest of my life in jail after being convicted of wanton perjury.

"But, your honor," I might have pleaded before the judge, "I have an excuse. I have cataracts."

Well, guess what. Cataract surgery is a miracle as far as I'm concerned. But it isn't perfect.

I still misread stuff. And I still have trouble figuring out what I've just read. The good news is that I have really keen nearsighted vision and can read the itty-bitty type my optometrist calls "medicine bottle" type. You know. That's the too-tiny-to-read type that contains important information about how much to take and how often. Rather important stuff.

And how to get the dang over-the-counter pills out of their open-proof packaging.

I've had a touch of something this past week. It's an illness I get every time the weather changes from cold to warm or from warm to cold. It induces a cough and makes my chest feel like a steel wool sponge.

My wife offered me some over-the-counter remedy that had worked for her. I was able to read the tiny type where it said to take two pills to start and then one pill at a time but not more than four pills in 24 hours. OK, you do the math. I did the reading.

There also were, as it turns out, instructions on how to get the pills out of their plastic and foil packaging, complete with illustrations.

Folks, if it's that complicated to get to a couple of pills, don't you think it's possible you might expire before you figure it all out?

"Tear off a section," said the illustrated instructions. Then, "Tear at notch. Use scissors if necessary."

If necessary?

Thank goodness I didn't get rid of all the workbench tools when we moved. I finally found a pair of metal shears that would make a dent in the so-called notch of the medicine package. I survived.

Now, if you really want to test both your vision and your comprehension, do this: Read the nutrition facts printed on a carton of microwave popcorn.

According to the label, a serving size is two tablespoons of unpopped corn. Really? I'm supposed to eat the corn before it's popped?

Or what about this:

There are "approximately" three servings per bag. There are 170 calories in two unpopped tablespoons of corn. There are 40 calories in one cup of popped corn.

So how many calories in one bag of popped microwave popcorn?

Maybe -- just maybe -- I have, due to goofy vision, misread some portion of the nutrition facts for microwave popcorn. I don't think so. But if you can set me straight, I'd sure appreciate it.

Tile company. Who knew?

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.