I am a man of vision — 20/30, to be exact. And my wife, Sue, is a woman of vision — also 20/30.

So why can’t we find our glasses? Or keep track of how many pairs we have? Or use the right ones when we want to read, drive or watch TV?

Those were the eye-opening questions we had for a certified optician who gave each of us a free vision screening at a local library.

“When you go to an eye doctor, you should always be late,” I told Andy Torres, who sat behind a table with a screening machine.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because,” I replied triumphantly, “then you can say, ‘I couldn’t find you.’ ”

Andy laughed and said, “I could see that one coming.”

“You could SEE it coming?” I chirped. “I am so proud of you!”

Sue rolled her bespectacled eyes. Andy’s eyes twinkled behind his specs.

“Speaking of which,” I went on, “is it some sort of rule that all eye specialists have to wear glasses?”

“I don’t know,” said Andy. “I’ve been wearing them since I was 11. I’m one year away from 30, so I guess I fit the stereotype.”

“I guess Sue and I fit a stereotype, too,” I said.

“Which one is that?” Andy inquired.

“Senior citizens,” I said, “who have glasses all around the house, which they can’t find. I mean the glasses, not the house, in which case they’d need a stronger prescription.”

“I have an older patient who told me she has glasses in every room,” Andy said.

“Sue says she has 90 pairs,” I said.

“Only 90?” he asked Sue.

“Some are for reading, some are for watching TV and some are for driving,” she said. “I don’t like bifocals, so I have to keep changing glasses.”

Sue added that some are prescription glasses and others are Peepers, a brand of nonprescription glasses called readers.

“I have readers,” I told Andy. “They’re for looking at the moon.”

“Really?” he wondered.

“No,” I admitted. “They’re for reading.”

Just for that, Andy let Sue go first for the vision screening.

She looked into the machine while wearing reading glasses and read lines on a chart. Then she put on her driving glasses and did the same.

“You have 20/30 vision with both pairs,” Andy told her.

Then it was my turn.

“I don’t wear glasses except to read, which I only started to do recently,” I said.

“You only recently started to read?” Andy asked.

“No, I could always read,” I said. “The problem is that I can’t write. But that’s another matter.”

I explained that I got readers a few months ago. I brought a pair with me. I also brought a pair of glasses that my now-retired optometrist prescribed for me. I’m supposed to use them for driving at night when it’s raining, but I really don’t need them.

“Put on your readers and look into the machine,” Andy instructed.

I easily read the first four of six lines of letters. The fifth line was a bit more difficult.

“C,” I began hesitantly. “R. Z. H. And the chemical symbol for boron.”

I did the same with my distance glasses. I also read without glasses.

“You have 20/30 vision, too,” Andy told me.

“My former optometrist said I had 20/40 vision,” I said. “My new optometrist said I have 20/30 vision. I think my vision is improving.”

“Some people see better as they get older,” Andy said.

“Could I end up with X-ray vision?” I asked.

“Not unless you eat carrots,” he said.

“We had carrots last night,” I said.

“Keep eating them,” Andy said.

“At least I don’t have cataracts,” I said.

“Did you know dogs can get cataracts?” he said.

“Does that mean cats can get dogaracts?” I wondered.

Andy laughed and said, “I could see that one coming, too.”

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