Nearly everything these days has
become far more arduous than in the recent past.
Driving a car is much more
difficult because of the grueling task of paying attention to the road while
texting or talking on your phone.
Watching sports events has become
complex because of the self-centered, overpaid, whiney clowns who would rather
rub their multi-million dollar salaries in your nose, while sitting or kneeling
for the national anthem.
Terrorists’ families express
outrage because the police interview them with angry voices.
Illegal aliens demonstrate their
contempt for their host country (Read: the United States of America
The bottom 47% of Americans are
carping about the tax break they’re not getting from President Trump. FYI, the bottom 47% pays no taxes
anyway. That’s what we call a moot
point.
And then there’s the dilemma I
face, and likely the balance of readers face, while simply grocery shopping.
That’s exactly where my sainted
wife and I were earlier today.
Last year we bought some crackers
on which to spread softened goat cheese that is infused with cranberries. We have the cheese; we now need the vehicle
to get it from the goat cheese log into our mouths.
Normally this task would prove
fairly easy, but today is much different.
As with all the above-listed predicaments, finding these crackers is
akin to finding an honest politician.
For nearly fifteen minutes, we
stood staring at the boxed and bagged crackers in the grocery store aisle, to
no avail.
There were crackers with cracked
grain; basil and mozzarella; herbs and feta cheese; garlic and Asiago; sea salt
and olive oil; olive oil and basil; basil and olive oil; and original.
No one is quite sure what the
sufficiently vague “herbs” are, so we passed on that one.
We checked the cracked grain bag
and decided it was a “no!” I feel a six
ounce bag of crackers should not cost more than a standing prime rib
roast. That tiny bag of cracked grain
crackers came in at a mere $5.16; quick ciphering tells us that is $15/pound.
And so it went as we touched
every container of crackers in an attempt to find something on which to spread
our goat cheese and cranberry prize.
Eventually we selected a
miniature foil bag of some sort of crunchy cracker that really didn’t meet our
wants of needs. In any case, we
surrendered to marketing by settling on anything to commence our quest for the
proverbial Holy Grail of snack food.
Upon returning home, we opened
this sack only to discover the crackers we bought to accept our schmear were
the size of a fingernail.
Congrats to me – I got screwed
again.
