Here's Some Stuff From My Head: More Dogs, A Racy Sign, and My Cheap Thrill

 

I'm just going to jump right in with some falderal since it's been so long and I still don't have anything of Momentous Importance to pontificate upon. 

At least that I feel like discussing at the moment. Certainly many weighty things exist Out There that I could get all Wound Up about, but no one wants that, least of all me.

Onward.

1.  I have met the following New Dogs since last we chatted:  a teensy terrier mix puppy named Rue; a floofy husky named Sterling; a black standard poodle named Molly. Only Molly was barky and slightly rude. This is the usual Poodle Response toward me, so I didn't take offense. 

2.  At my Super Fun Grocery Store, they had a huge paint buyout in the Closeouts Department. But even better, they made this sign:

If this sign were in any other store I went to, I'd be completely annoyed and rail about it to my husband and everyone I know. But because it is in my grocery store, I can merely laugh and be indulgently amused, like parents are when their kids mispronounce words in a cute way. ("Did you hear that? She said cabrella for umbrella! How adorable.") Probably if I saw this in, say, Lowe's, I'd be outraged and complain about it for days. ("How many staff and management pass by that sign every single day and no one has noticed or bothered to correct it!? How ridiculous.") I can't wait to see if it's still there this week.

3. It's no secret that I am easily entertained, and one thing that never fails to do it for me is the automatic carwash. There's just something about sitting in your car in the dark and having all that water and suds and those brush rollers all over while your car moves all by itself through the building. I love it. I used to take Jared and Sam through one all the time during our summer vacation. When Sam used to work at a dealership in the area, he knew that taking me through their carwash would make me happy, so he did it often. Now, carwashes are pricey. Back a hundred years ago, I paid four bucks for a wash. Not anymore. But I treated myself and got an actual Carwash Membership (and not solely for the fun of it; I have a black car, and I hate how dirty it gets and how bad it looks when it does). 

I go to a Mod Wash that's on my way to my mother's place and my grocery store. I can go every single day if I want (I don't), and it's like unlimited free rides at an amusement park for me. Today I got one of their free air fresheners, which smells like the worst fruit bubblegum on steroids, so I won't be using it, but when I flipped it to the other side, I saw that it was more than just an air freshener. Here's what it said:

Thank you, Mod Wash! I needed to hear that today, a day when I am running on very little sleep, thanks to shitful cat behaviour all night and a pulled muscle in my back. Not only do you make me unreasonably lighthearted, but you remind me that I've Got This! (As long as I don't put your freshener on painted, plastic, or varnished surfaces, or mind if my car smells like 1977.) 

It's the little things, you know? Regale me with your car wash feelings and anything else in Comments.

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Cows (And I) Hate That

Scene opens on Rick and Nance in the car. They are driving to go pick up their taxes at the accountant's office.

Nance:  Why are you going straight? Why didn't you turn left? This is an odd way to go.

Rick:  I don't know the best way to go, honestly. There is no good way to go. 

Nance:  Hm. This just seems--Oh look! Cows! How wonderful!

Rick:  (turns his head toward the window at the cows)  Mooooo!

Nance:  (big sigh; disapprovingly) Cows hate that, you know. They hate being mooed at.

Rick:  They do? How exactly do you know that?

Nance:  Oh, Rick. Everyone knows that. It's disrespectful and demeaning. It's...it's like going up to a Native American and (raises one hand, palm out) saying "how."

Rick:  But how do you know that?

Nance:  I would think the analogy I just gave you is example enough. Good heavens. 

Rick:  Okay, but what if a little kid was in the car with us and said Moo to the cows? What would you think then? You'd think it was cute.

Nance:  It would depend. If it were a sweet little kid, I'd probably think it was cute. But if it were some mouthy snotty kid who is always yelling and being a brat, I'd hate it. And I'd tell him the same thing I just told you. 

Rick:  Wow. What are you trying to say? 

End Scene.

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I'm Nance, And I Am A Parking Lot Avenger

Let me say at the outset that I am not one of these fussy parkers that has to circle the lot a hundred times to find a spot close to the door. I prefer to start my shopping inside the store. Unless the weather is rainy, I often choose a spot quite far from the door since I am able-bodied and don't find walking objectionable. 

I am also not the parker who sits idling in the middle of the lane, waiting for someone to pull out so that I can pull into that spot. That behaviour frosts my cupcakes to no end. Why must you have that spot? Is it climactically perfect? Are its coordinates your lucky number? Or are you just a jerk?

Here's another thing that gets me:  designated parking for "special" people. Mother-to-Be spots. Family Only spots. Spots for Veterans. I'm sorry, but what? When I was pregnant, and hugely so, I walked up three flights of stairs to a third-period study hall five days a week. And my school covered an entire city block, so I did a lot more walking than from a parking lot to a store. My doctor never suggested I walk less. And why would a Family need a special spot? Do mothers and fathers no longer tell their kids to hold hands and stay with Mom and Dad, that a parking lot is Just As Dangerous As A Street? That was Standard Operating Procedure for our family everywhere we went (with no special parking spots, either). A special spot for a Veteran seems condescending and ridiculous to me. How about that business really honors their service and gives them ten percent off every purchase, every day? I park in the Mother-to-Be and Family spots every so often when I'm feeling snotty. (Not the Veteran spot--stolen valour.)

On Friday I had to make a trip to the warehouse club, and you know how those parking lots are. It's a free-for-all, and most people are driving bigass SUVs and up-armored urban assault vehicles. I drive a Prius plug-in, and it was like I was driving in a canyon, the place was so crowded. I finally saw a parking spot, but no! some selfish snot parked astride two spaces. I drove farther on and parked, but I was so irked by this moron's selfishness. Even if it were an accident, why not, upon getting out and seeing what a horrible job he did, get back in the car and park it correctly? 

I felt the need to Avenge This Wrong, so on my way in I grabbed a huge cart from the cart return and parked it carefully--broadside--against the rear of the offending car. That way, the idiot knew it was on purpose; he had to move the cart before he could open his hatchback to unload his own cart; he had to deal with two big carts; and he was inconvenienced, too. 

It made me feel pretty damn good, I have to say. Later, when I told Rick of my Parking Lot Coup, he said, "I just worry about your safety when you do stuff like this. Especially when you're by yourself." He acts like I do Stuff Like That all the time. 

I don't, by the way. But every so often, I like to...rebalance the scales in my world. Don't you?

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