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A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE
I resolve not to count the lady’s groceries in line ahead of me to ensure she has fifteen or fewer items.
Caught myself doing it more than once.
It’s only going to make me angry. Does a two-pack of stick deodorants count as one item or two?
Ah, it’s all in the swiping. If the cashier has to swipe it twice, it’s two things.
“That’s sixteen, Ma’am. You have sixteen things!”
It just goes downhill from there.
I resolve not to slow down by three miles an hour when I’m passing a heavy truck on the interstate and a car with non-Texas plates comes up behind me with the left-turn signal blinking.
Who does that? Not the slowing down; I mean the left-turn thing. If you’re behind me, then I’ve seen you. I appreciate that you’re in a hurry and that you think you can’t be ticketed, but the speed limit is seventy-five. Frankly, if you’re this late for something, you should have left home earlier.
I resolve always to cut pie and pizza slices from the very center of the dish, not at a weird angle because I only want a little bit. This is America; if I’ve committed to a pie, then I should be in for the whole slice.
And it’s not okay to cut a slice in a curve to ensure that you catch that chocolate plop or extra frosting. This is America; we are all equals in the Great Melting Pot of Cake Eaters.
Also, when the pepperoni slice or the meat lumplet falls off the narrow end of the pizza slice, it’s not okay to plunge the serving fork deep into the crevasse at the center and come away with an orphaned olive or wodge of cheese.
I resolve not to do that, too.
I resolve henceforth to put both the seat and the lid down. This completely neutralizes the appliance. We should all find the little room equally accommodating. Enough said about that.
I resolve no longer to load the office PostIt note dispenser with one-way PostIt notes when it was clearly made for dispensing zig-zag packaged PostIt notes.
If you know, you know.
I resolve no longer to push my used shopping cart backwards into the return cage in the middle of the parking lot, even if it makes all the sense in the world because I think carts should be ready to use by facing this way. I’ve seen the looks that the Cart People have given me, and they weren’t nice.
Clearly I’m not going to change the world’s cart-return practices with my lonely contribution to right-way-round garaging. I’m ready to yield defeat on that project. It was a valiant effort, but I remain the lone crusader there.
I resolve no longer to recycle birthday and holiday cards by pulling the used ones out of people’s bins and re-sending them the following year. I know it’s a great money saver and most people honestly can’t remember what was on the last card anyone sent them, and unless it said something like “You’re Five Today!” and they’re patently not anymore, they aren’t going to be wise to my cunning plan.
There are only so many responses I can find to someone opening a card and saying “Oh, how strange that it smells like old taco meat.”
Really, holidays cards are especially generic and admirably suited to re-sending because I’ve only signed them with my name… I don’t have to send them back to the same family every year.
Just every two or three.
I resolve a lot of things this New Year, and I shall do my best to stick to my pledges.
Who knows, maybe next year I will stop resolving.
I may already have tried that.