Weekend Digest for May 19
Or should it be “Weekend Digest for May 17 and 18”, since those were the actual weekend dates? This will keep me up tonight.
A few observations from the weekend that was, from the Monday that is. (Sounded better in my head). Happy Monday!
Play calling in softball is getting a bit out of hand. You know, “B15AA67” Player steps out of batter’s box, looks at wrist. It’s adding about 3 hours to every game. There may be a longer post there. If I have time after these games.
Every time Excel tells me “We can’t do this to a merged cell”, I feel like I’ve asked it to do something unethical. I don’t need this extra source of shame, Excel. Just say something like “Error#” and move on.
I visited a Taco Bell which had one of those self-order screens at the same counter where a human stood ready to take an order. It wasn’t even off to the side, but literally right in the middle of the front counter. And it was at eye-level, so that if someone ordering on it were to look a fraction of an inch above the screen, they would have met the eyes of the human who would also be glad to take their order. Thankfully, there was another kiosk well-away from the front. Otherwise, I might have just turned around and walked out. In the best of cases, if an employee is watching me meander to a self-order screen, I usually nod genially and point to the screen, mumbling something about how I’m “just browsing”, like I’m in an Old Navy circa 2004. In any case, this Taco Bell seemed to be looking into my soul and taunting me to re-examine everything I hold dear. I’m not sure I’m made for this age.
Speaking of food (and speaking of Costco), it strikes me that a Costco trip is a good analogy of a person’s 20’s - you start off optimistic and happy, jazzed by the spectacle of all that glitters, feeling like God has gifted you this time and this place. Fast forward a bit, and you’re broke, bloated, disillusioned with your fellow man, moping and eating pizza and drinking Pepsi just to get the strength to enter the outside world. (And then come the 30s and 40s, so.)
Since I cannot be bothered to stop talking about food, I like almonds and dark chocolate. So the choice between Almond Joy and Mounds is the devil‘s choice.
Finally, we all spent quite a bit of time at home this weekend, which means our kitchen and living room resemble a scene in a gritty crime drama:
Dirty plates, pans and bowls cover every counter and are stacked to overflowing in the sink. Abandoned dishes of cereal and macaroni and cheese rest upon couch cushions and end tables. Butter congeals on a saucer next to a barely nibbled slice of toast. Cheese wrappers and yogurt tubes peek out from behind and below cups and glasses filled with tepid, unidentifiable liquids. Shriveled apple cores of indeterminable age sit on a cutting board next to a precariously large butcher knife. A rat the size of a Bullmastiff puppy drags a rotten bag of oranges along a sticky baseboard. A green FBI recruit rushes out the door to throw up in the bushes. And a wizened detective in a rain-soaked trench coat and Stetson hat slowly surveys the room before uttering, "Lord have mercy on us all."
It was good weekend.Hope your weekend was full of comfortable social interactions and your favorite technology that does not shame you!
Photo by David von Diemar on Unsplash
I hit Taco Bell once every couple of months. Thankfully, I have yet to attempt counter service as I fear I would have the exact same reaction that you have, poor Phil.
How am I to find my bean and cheese burrito, no red sauce, on the screen? Is this really more efficient?
The drive through continues to see us millennials, and for that, I am grateful. However, I can only utilize it when my significant other is not around, for car lines >2 in volume deeply offends him. Somehow, the Costco line never does? Go figure how contradictory we will be to save a buck on wholesale, unshelled pistachios.
Sounds like a relaxing weekend :):). Spellcheck mocks me with the all too familiar “no replacements found”, i.e., “hey stupid, you are so far off in your attempt, we cannot even fathom what you are trying to spell”.
Your crime scene description is hilarious. But you forgot the koolaid stain splatter on the floor, wall, and ceiling that would tell the whole story to a veteran parent or grandparent.