Every week, I get a “Your Weekly Savings” email from Safeway. First off: don’t ask me how you can get in on the action. It’s a very exclusive club. They can’t have common riff-raff attempting to save 50 cents on Yoplait or anarchy will ensue!
Not that you’re missing out on much. Case in point:
Wow. I can save a whopping 12 cents! That’s about 1/38th the price of a gallon of gas ’round here. How generous, Corporate Grocery Chain.
They were a little more generous with this cheese deal…
But, c’mon. It’s not even good cheese! That’s their private label brand. Lucerne cheese is made in Ohio, for crying out loud. OHIO. They could at least offer up savings on some Wisconsin cheese!
On my last post, The Travel Architect commented that she and her husband have a touch faucet in their kitchen, so whenever they go anywhere—which is pretty often, given her blog name—they always touch the faucet stem and expect it to turn on. I chuckled over this, because I do the same thing with glass doors. Well, no…I don’t touch them and expect water to gush out. But I always think they’re going to open for me automatically, as they do at Corporate Grocery Chains and many other stores and offices. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve nearly hurtled my body through a closed glass door with the expectation that it was about to swoosh open for me.
Another thing that always seems to screw me up is automatic soap dispensers in public bathrooms. Many times I’ve rinsed my hands and then held them beneath the dispenser, waiting for a dollop of soap that never materializes. Makes me feel pretty stupid when there are people at adjoining sinks. I’ll sometimes pretend I was examining something on my hands. Ha-ha, meant to do that! And then press the button for the soap.
Hell, even if there is an automatic soap dispenser—or water faucet, for that matter—half the time getting the damn thing to work is an exercise in futility. I’ll be standing there, waving my hands around, and nothing will come out. Or it will, but then it’ll stop mid-stream because…I don’t know. I moved out of the way of the sensor? There’s a timer? They’ve rigged a hidden camera and are laughing at the latherer’s expense? So, now I’m flapping my hands around in exaggerated fashion, like a puppeteer on meth or the world’s most expressive mime, and droplets of water are flying everywhere because my hands are wet.
And you wonder why I long to be Amish sometimes.
Hey, remember that time I was all gung-ho about investing in crypto? Boy, am I glad I pulled out after a few weeks. Bitcoin was selling at $47,000 the first time I bought it. Lately, it’s been hovering around $20K. Ouch.
I still have my account. I put a few hundred dollars into it, so if there’s some miraculous rebound, I might yet be able to buy that coveted yacht.
Wait. I forgot. I’m anti-boat now.
In any case, I took the money I was going to invest in crypto, and bought myself a remote starter for my car instead. Come November, I’ll be real happy I did that!
Actually, come 5:00, I’ll be plenty happy. ‘Cause it’s going to hit 90° today, and I made sure to leave the A/C switched on when I came back from lunch. One quick press of the key fob 10 minutes before I leave and I should be greeted with frosty, refreshing air when I slide behind the wheel after work.
I don’t know how our ancestors survived unspeakable hardships like dysentery when I yelp like a wounded gazelle if the steering wheel is too hot to the touch.