Kicking off my shoes, I slumped in my chair, certain that not since Custer’s Last Stand had anyone experienced such a fatiguing afternoon.
“I tell you, the supermarket was a madhouse today,” I told my wife. “It’s as though everyone had the same list I did and was one step ahead of me.”
She ignored my whining and pointed to the floor.
“Do you always go to the store wearing two different shoes?” she asked.
I looked down at my athletic shoes. One was blue; the other, green.
“Well, I can never be allowed to go out in public again!”
“Did anyone even notice?” she asked.
“If they did, they didn’t say anything. But then, they were all grabbing for the last of the bananas.”
“You were probably en vogue and didn’t even notice,” she said.
My wife will say anything to avoid supermarket duty. I don’t mind shopping, but it had been a rough day and my body was feeling it.
“I thought things would be easier by now,” my complaining continued. “I mean, I’m sure lion tamers’ work gets easier the longer they do it. At least, the lions get older and their teeth looser. Shopping just becomes worse as I get older.”
That set me to thinking. Why aren’t things any easier? We look at The Jetsons, and although we are living in the future, we’re not all driving rocket ships and talking with our minds, as the poet promised. Where George Jetson did his job pushing one button, we’re saddled with several keyboards and network errors.
I thought that by now someone would have recognized the wisdom of putting zip-top bags in our cereal boxes. But no, we’re still waking up to stale flakes.
Why don’t all toothpaste tubes have flip-caps so we can open and close the stuff? No, we keep dropping the caps as the hot water fogs up the bathroom.
Here we are in the – what is it? – 21st century, and still life is a chore. Maybe one reason is that 2014 is in the 21st century. Can’t we agree to line up the years and the centuries so it’s easier to keep track? 2014 should be in the 20th century, no matter what logic says.
Events taking place at 12 p.m. should be canceled. Is it noon or midnight? It seems that 12 p.m. follows 11 p.m. and therefore is midnight. On the other hand, 1 p.m. would follow 12 p.m., making it noon. Just say noon and midnight.
What about ordinal numbers? “First,” “second,” “third” and “fourth” all end differently. Let’s pick one and be done with it.
Oh, and can we make all shoes the same color so getting dressed is not such a chore?
MAGIC MIRROR: TV’s Miss Marcia used to look through her Romper Room mirror and name all the children. So, to the kids in the family whose birthdays have come in a clump: Happy birthday, Tommy and Barbie and Madison and Colten.
Reach Glynn Moore at firstname.lastname@example.org.