Every once in a while, I need to rant and ramble about things that bother, confound or annoy me. Sometimes I wish people would just listen to my ideas. Consider yourselves warned.
How is it possible that I can consistently make a recipe from scratch without written instructions or measuring utensils of any kind and have it taste the exact same way every single time, yet I can’t find a reliable locksmith or hardware store to duplicate my keys, even with the use of a precision instrument?
How is it that junk mail (both the real and virtual kind) can find its way into my mailbox on a consistent basis, and yet I never receive a birthday card on time or a hand-written thank-you note at all anymore in this day and age?
We are told not to cry over spilled milk, but who spills milk? Have you ever seen the mess a half cup of spilled coffee can make? And why does that require more than half a roll of paper towels to absorb? Don’t even get me started about the coffee filter that folds over. Don’t.
Why can X-rays find a broken bone but never see a broken heart?
Forget about which came first, the chicken or the egg. Whose idea was it that this fragile thing that comes out of a chicken’s behind might actually be something tasty and what possessed him to decide to crack it?
What happens to all the bananas that go brown and remain unsold?
Why do we bother to tell other people the crazy dreams we had the night before when they make absolutely no sense the minute we start explaining the characters and sequence of events out loud? Sharing your dreams is like sharing your vacation photos. They’re really not that interesting.
What would happen if we revised the calendar completely and one week consisted of 10 days and a weekend consisted of four?
Imagine if there were only two sizes for shoes and clothing: “Fits” and “Doesn’t Fit.” Wouldn’t that make life a lot easier for everyone?
Of course it would. But then I’d have little left to ramble about.