My friend’s eyes were always crimson-sore – they looked like a dying fire. So, the obligatory oculist opportunistically ordered optical lenses. The ersatz eyes arrived, but the raw discomfort mulishly remained. Rather than return to the pricy eye doctor and risk racking retinal surgery, we ’wimped’ back to the ABCs. We discovered that if my friend laved his still-sleepy phiz at first light, then he didn’t drive his hands to his eyes. The soreness soothed, the burning breezed away, and into the bin flew the gainless glasses.