Why I Hate Shopping for Food

I hate shopping for food for a ton of reasons...the fact that anything healthy costs more than anything unhealthy, hunting for a parking space only to find an abandoned shopping cart in it, signs that say things like "10 Item's or Less" and set my teeth on edge...but one of the more recent developments in the universe, one that I thought I would really love, tends to make me the craziest: self-checkout.

First let me say: I love self-checkout. Love it. I love scanning my items, touch-screening in my method of payment, and then swiping my debit card. These are great things. (Even greater is Jewel-Osco's "pay by touch" system, where you pay by putting your finger on this little scanner, but that's a whole other post.) So I'm a big fan of the concept behind going into the store, grabbing the small handful of items you need, scanning 'em, paying for 'em, and getting on with your life without going through the traditional manned checkout/bagging lane. Except for one thing: People have no clue how to line up for self-checkout, and most stores are too shy to just go ahead and make up a rule.

The rule should be: Form one line for the self-checkout area, and then the next person in line goes to the next available scanner, no matter which one becomes free first. Right? Isn't that a nice, simple rule that should work? The self-checkouts are usually even set up to be conducive to this rule, because there is more than one self-checkout kiosk per row.

However, this rule does not work, because 1) Most stores won't put up signs explaining it, thus ensuring that everyone realizes what a wonderful rule it would be; and 2) In the absence of a written rule, people automatically try to get behind the person who appears to have the fewest items to scan, thinking that this scanner will be available next. False logic, since it is entirely possible that the person attempting to purchase that one 2-liter bottle of Diet Coke with Lime will have never used the scanner before, not realized that only Pepsi products are the ones on sale, and have nothing but wrinkled, disheveled dollar bills to put into the bill acceptor. (And that's only if the person succeeds in locating the bar code on the product, and it's not ripped or defaced enough to prevent a successful scan.)

So if everyone would just form a single-file line, things could conceivably move a lot faster...and then those little shopping trips for a single jar of fat-free beef gravy wouldn't turn into exercises in exasperation.

Traffic

Today, I'm finally going to gripe about something that's been bothering me for a LONG time. Ever since the late 1800s, when the transportation department apparently started this road improvement project that never seems to show any signs of improving.

I get on I-94 to go to work, and I always pull out of the county road that we live on and stay in the right lane. This is because I know that the left lane is going to end, and I want to not have to squeeze in at the last minute. Now, I am not the only one who knows about this lane ending thing. Theoretically, so do the people who just happen to be passing through this area, and observe the "left lane ends" orange construction-style signs that appear a few miles before the cones make the lane merge into the right lane and go away.

Problem is, I don't know what people are thinking when they see the "left lane ends; merge right" directives. Because the minute that sign comes into view, people start making a beeline for the left lane, apparently trying to beat as many vehicles as possible into the front of the single lane of traffic. About half the time, this turns into a backup (and occasionally a pileup) because if you rush to the front of the line and can't get anyone to let you in when the lane ends, you have to stop, and this results in traffic getting slower and slower until I end up having a headache before I even get to work.

Unless to the people coming down the state highway near my home it is perpetually opposite day, I have to conclude that there's a good chance they might be...well...stupid? Or just really competitive?

This is the kind of thing that turns every morning's commute into a philosophical debate within my own head, and I end up exhausted before I can even check my morning e-mail. And if I'm exhausted by the time I hear about K-Fed's latest misadventure as reported in the gossip blogosphere, then I'm in no shape to read my National Enquirer....and that's just sad.

Oh, Matt, Why?

I watch the Today show every morning, and yesterday I got VERY peeved at Matt Lauer for one simple reason...when he mentioned the premiere of Survivor, he said "Survival" and didn't correct himself. The nerve of that guy....

The Carpenters

Having spent the entire holiday weekend outside "improving" the home, I went through at least two high-volume spray cans of Spectracide. (For those of you not wasp-phobic, this is a highly-toxic chemical spray, which can spray up to 27 feet away from you. You use it to "knock out" wasps that are buzzing around, and also to destroy their nests.)

Well, this weekend I found out that wasps are annoying little milquetoasty wussies when compared to...carpenter bees.

This weekend had a twofold objective...both to finish the 6-foot privacy fence we're putting up on one side of the yard, and to finish planting veggies in the garden. Smack dab in the middle of yesterday I started getting harassed by carpenter bees, which look exactly like bumblebees except they're bigger and actually have the ability to bounce. Bob batted one over the fence with a stray picket, and it just came back pissed off.

Each one of us went out there with a new can of spray, and each one of us was amazed by these insects' powers of regeneration. They just will not die. So, of course, knowing that Menards was open till 6 today, I went online to see what could kill them. It turns out that killing them involves either A) calling a professional; B) ridding your property of all wooden structures; C) spending $290 on this wand system that will eject dessicating powder at high speed through the bees' burrows.

Then I found out that they nest in pairs, and that the male is the one who guards the nest. But, in what is undoubtedly one of God's little jests, the male that so aggressively guards the nest is born without the ability to sting. Just another thing to make me feel stupid in the middle of a home improvement project.

Spell It Out for Me

I've been furious about this one for a long time, but I didn't think it was worth posting about because I figured someone would notice the problem and fix it and I'd be happy again. But no.

On my way to work, there's this store that's going out of business, so they have been having a sale to unload all the stuff they've got left. Their sign reads:

GOING OUT OF BUISNESS SALE

It's been weeks since the sale, and now they're permanently closed, and no one has taken down the sign. I wonder if anyone would care if I went over there and switched the two letters to their correct positions. It's really bothering me, and all I'd need is a ladder.... But of course, in a town this small, such a stunt would probably result in someone calling the police.

This is what happens when you're an English major. You start to care way too much about stuff like this. (There's a sign, also on my way to work, that has had a misplaced apostrophe for a while, but as you fellow English majors know, sadly, apostrophe abuse is running rampant in this country, so I didn't think it was worth mentioning.)

Sigh.

Self-Loathing

It's really annoying me that I haven't posted to this thing since the Halloween candy debacle. That will change soon...so far this week has provided a bumper crop of things to whine about.