You know, I thought getting old was supposed to have perks. I mean, where's all that wisdom I was promised in my youth? Shouldn't it have arrived by now? I've allowed six to eight weeks for delivery and all but still, no sign of it.
Because, if it had come to my doorstep, surely there wouldn't be such a humongous laundry list of things that, still - even at my advanced age of 43 - I simply just don't get.
For instance, here's just a partial list of things I sufficiently do not understand:
1. The way that I continue to receive annoyance calls even though I've officially registered my phone number(s) with the "Do Not Call" list some 8,417 times. Seriously, honestly and really, really truly, I want to tell all the travel, credit card, banking / mortgage and lending companies who relentlessly dial Casa Kimerer in hopes of a sale: I'm not interested so please, I am begging you to lose my number. Fast.
As for you politicians - all I can say is, you may have been this close to getting my vote - and then you stalked me. Now, we're done. Good luck without me on Tuesday, boys and girls. I'll be voting for those two schlubs who couldn't afford to nag me to death with nuisance calls. They're the candidates for me.
2. Why squirrels (deer, raccoons, and random other varmints, as well) continue to mess with me. Whether it's a brown squirrel who decides to zip out in front of me and stop in my path, narrowly escaping being squished beneath my foot as I'm running in the park, or the graceful leaping deer which select the very moment I'm driving past them to dart out into the road - what the h? I mean, are these like the Sean Whites of their species? Are they just crazy thrill seekers looking for an adrenaline rush so they can boast bravely back at the nest / den / whatever? "Dude, you should have seen how close this crazy-haired chick came to clobbering me with her huge man feet. I could've been de-tailed right there. It was, like, awesome!" Hmpf.
3. Why I cannot select a pack of berries (regardless of type) that won't ferment by the time I scan their barcode at the self check out? Listen, I know that we're allowed to eat cheese that's molded once, but I'm pretty sure rotten, penicillin-growing berries aren't a delicacy in this or any part of the world.
4. And speaking of the DIY check out counter: why is that faux woman cashier always so angry with me? I mean, she cards me for cold medicine, yells at me to put my items on the belt (Um, hello? They're already on there.) and hollers for me to remove all items from the belt (but I just got you to accept them!) then screams at me to remove all bagged items? That meanie needs to take lessons in nice from Flo, the Progressive saleslady but I digress.
Seems some of you out there are just as dense as I. I mean, take my husband for example.
He can't understand why the girl at the Dunkin' Donuts window in Niles won't ask him if he wants his penny back when the coffee he bought costs $1.99 and he gave her two bucks. Also, he wants to know who really counts the 12 express lane items at the grocery store (clearly he's never encountered the evil virtual cashier - trust me, she's counting). And, he's confounded at TV weathercasters who call a day partly rainy but never partly dry.
Oh well, maybe someday we'll understand. I mean, I gave up on wisdom but I did just put in a rush order for enlightenment. I even paid for overnight shipping and handling; should be coming anytime now
Kimerer is an acumen-challenged Tribune Chronicle columnist. Contact her slowly at firstname.lastname@example.org.