An eternal optimist, I was often accused of seeing the world through rose- colored glasses. Maybe I was naive, but I tried to find a silver lining in most of life's dark clouds.

I was admittedly vain. I liked to feel pretty, and gave my skin a sun-kissed glow using a personal sun lamp. When I was single and still living with my parents, I fell asleep under the lamp, awoke with eyes burning and a feverish face. A trip to Urgent Care resulted in three days of salved and wrapped eyes to heal damage to my corneas, not to mention the all-knowing, "I told you so," look on on my mother's face, referring to her earlier warning, "You'll burn your face and age twenty years with that lamp!"

I couldn't go to work and felt foolishly responsible for my temporary disability. To relieve my guilt for dragging my mother out in the middle of the night, I attempted to do the housework. I remembered the classic Helen Keller movie I had recently seen on TV, and as it was fresh in my mind, I knew a few tips on how to maneuver the halls, doors, faucets. Because I was up for the challenge, it was almost fun.

I began by counting steps from the table to the sink, room to room. Able to discern freshly washed and dried laundry, I folded most of the clothes, hung some up, and sorted socks by feel and size. I showered, shampooed, squirted toothpaste on my toothbrush, and made the bed. Though I could set the table, I eliminated cooking for the obvious reasons. It seemed to me that my best guides were the senses of smell and touch.

I opened containers in the fridge and could tell which was milk or juice. I reached for a box, opened the bag inside, sniffed, confirmed it was Cheerios, filled a bowl, and then poured a bit of milk. I used a finger to feel how deep the milk was in the bowl. And voila! My breakfast was ready. I was able to maneuver spoon to mouth with little trouble. Peanut butter sandwiches smelled delicious when I had no sight and thus, I was able to satisfy my hunger all day. The menu stayed the same for all three days, but I knew the time was short, so I didn't mind the redundancy.

Several good habits became routine after this experience. While at first it was just a game, I saw the value in my everyday life. I found that I could replicate the sun kissed look, vanity in tack, with mineral bronzing powder. The sun lamp was relegated to the attic. I was able to get up at any time during the night, walk through the house, procure and eat a snack without turning on a light. I could also rise early and dress in the dark without waking anyone. I organized my closet by color, sorting pants and skirts so they were easily paired with the tops. All dressy clothes at one end, vests, jackets and blazers interspersed with the proper color of tops and pants. I utilized several of the many organizational tools found in a storage specialty shop.

My good fortune in not injuring myself worse is not lost on me. I realize that many do not have the three-day grace period I fortunately have had. The experience has taught me how to be less reliant on sight, and also to take careful precautions to protect my eyes. I am so humbled by the achievements those without sight have made in the world. I only walked three days in their shoes, but I know that they are the ones to whom the rose-colored glasses belong. Because they do not limit themselves, they exude courage and ambition to move forward and attain their goals.