Merry Christmas Everyone!
Today in Kalamazoo Michigan we have a high of 43 and a low of 28. There is no snowpack on the ground, the ground is bare. Again we have a no-snow Christmas. We’ve had these for a few years now, and looking at the forecast, by Sunday we’ll have a high of 57 degrees and it’ll rain.
Things that used to be aren’t any longer, the seasons are shifting around, and even our USDA zone is changing and has over the past few years. More than that, you can feel that something is terribly wrong with the world. You can see it in the people, you can see it in the sky, the weather, the birds, and the remarkable and tragic lack of any sort of insect out there.
This is the season of hope and wonder, so I won’t harsh it, but we all know deep down what I would write if it wasn’t the holiday season.
I sat at home, looking outside the big picture window as tiny flakes of snow fell from the slate sky and thought about my day. Where to go? To go? Lunch? Where?
Then I got over it. There is nowhere to go. There are no destinations out there where I could find anything that I want. What I want is lost to the past. Again I find myself fondly recalling “The Spot” coffeehouse in Buffalo. It was immense, comfy couches and chairs, and a central ebony bar where you could order any beverage as long as it was tea or coffee based. That’s where I want to go. So of to Yelp to see what is available locally.
Give me a break. Everything is either in run down factory space, which means derelict paper plant shipping skids repurposed into shops, with benches and uncomfortable seating arrangements, with expensive blown out menus — or a chain. Chains serve a purpose but they are not, and never will be, destinations. They are locations of opportunity.
So, lunch at home. Entertainment at home. Everything is here, why would I leave? So I’m all dressed up and have nowhere to go. And the key is to make peace with that. To make peace with the inaccessible past. To let it go and accept the boring and dull crapscape before me.
Thank goodness I can cook for myself! I’d be lost otherwise. The only reason to leave will be to fetch Scott at 5pm. That’s it.
Bailey and Keeley, laying together. Totally relaxed and apparently squished together tete a tete. They play fight, but it’s scenes like this that show how close they truly are.
Yesterday the light over our sink was out. I noticed that it had a 14-inch bulb and a small fuse-shaped starter part. Not knowing which one was shot I decided to replace them both. So off to Menards to find the replacement parts and get the fix done.
Everything at Menards was fine, to find the products, the location of the bulbs was pretty much where I expected them and the starters come in a two-pack for two dollars, and I just needed one, so now I have a spare. Oh hooray. But after we found the bits we needed, we ran into a cashier, which is a terminal destination if you want to buy something from them as they have no DIY lanes.
There is this arrangement for the cashiers, and it is deeply unsettling. Each lane has a spot to pull a cart into, carved out of the tabletop leading to the cashier, there is no belt delivery to the cashier, but instead it is flipped and serves the cashier to the customer on the other side, post-cashier. Also, the cashiers are facing the same direction as the customers, so that when you approach them, their backs are to you, you pull the cart into the spot, and then you … walk behind and around the cashier to where the point of sale terminal is, at the end of the belt, and you collect your items yourself and bag them yourself. This flips the standard way that customers interact with cashiers, we aren’t apparently supposed to socialize with the cashier? You never really come eye-to-eye with them, at best it’s a kind of ignored side-eye contact if anything and that is all there is to it. Once your purchase is done, you get a defeated “thank you” afterwards from the cashier as you walk away.
Menards has good prices and a good bit of organization in their stores. If you catch them with a mislabeled price tag or a botched price on the shelves, as we have experienced before, they fix the botch and then charge you full price and lie right through their teeth that there was ever any issue with either the product, the label, or the shelf itself. Which is why, if you go to Menards and spot an issue, you snap a photo of it to catch them being clever. So you know, not much love lost already. But then there is this bit here, the checkout. All the Menards share this feature, and I can’t help but read into the design of the checkout lanes and what that means. The design is deeply depersonalizing for the
The design of the checkouts at Menards leads me to think that this entire design was created by people who are somewhat agoraphobic. They just can’t handle the social interactions and so, they designed the one place where customers and staff interact for sure so that neither party has to look at each other, so there is no social stress at all. But along with that goes their humanity. Why do I care who is standing there, I won’t have anything to do with them, so having a conversation is meaningless, and as such, I won’t even remember what they look like. The only thing I can really remember about any Menards cashier is that they are bipedal. That’s it. Not skin color, not hair style, not their eyes, or how tall they were, or anything, other than they were standing there and humans never come on anything more than two legs, so, that’s it. That’s all there is.
The more I think about Menards the more I am creeped out by them. By their entire company. By their spokesman on TV, who presumably is a Menard, who has that strange way about him, like he is chewing as he talks, even when excited, like he’s got gum, or perhaps tripe stuck in his teeth and he’s talking around it in that manic too-excited-to-be-healthy way. Their cashiers who might be human, but who really cares, huh? To the sneaky and clever staff that float about the store and fix pricing errors and gaslight the customers. They offer low prices, a meaningless and incomprehensible rebate program where you get some odd percentage of your receipts back, if you leave and then come back, presumably with a box full of receipts and park yourself at customer service. I’ve never been clear on why any of that means anything to anybody, keep a paper receipt? Why? Once I am sure whatever I bought won’t explode or fail out-of-box, whats the point of keeping the receipt. Are there people who collect up Menards receipts and then have a day where they waddle up to the customer service desk and… what? Dump them? Fill out a form? I don’t really get how their rebate program is supposed to increase loyalty or boost traffic.
So anyways, there’s a Menards and it’s close to the house, and I suppose that may be the only saving grace for them. They are closer than Lowe’s and more organized than Home Depot. But that’s really all there is. They are sneaky, strange, and odd. In reflection, they are perfect for the places where they have set up shop, one could say they are a reflection of the kind of people who live in this area of the country. Sneaky, Strange, Odd.
What a windy day today has turned out to be! Took care of cleaning the CX-5, then going to the gym, and then with Scott’s help picking up around the house and running the vacuum. Next, laundry going apace. After that a trip to Menards for a fluorescent light bulb and a starter. It’s a F14T12CW. Yay for codes. And I’ll have the bummy starter on me, so that should be a simple thing to replace. Of course, now that I’m looking for anything, it’s all gone. The entire county. Sold out. Never heard of it. Never stocked it.
I know this game. It’s called “Might as well just fucking buy it on God Damned Amazon.”
But I love disappointment. So, that’ll keep my Sunday busy.
I heard a loud thump outside and I sprang to check the CX-5. Nothing wrong. But then I happened to notice my neighbor with a unique posture. He was between his house and his garbage trundle. Hands down, centered, with the look of bladder relaxation that all men get. And then he shook himself off and got in his car and drove off. His house, he can pee on it if he wants to. I suspect he may not be a family man. LOL.
Today has been uniquely stenchy in Kalamazoo. At first I was afraid a woodland creature got into the CX-5, somehow, and started to decompose. Nope. The CX-5 is perfectly fine, it’s the air in this town. It smells disgusting and repugnant.
As I was walking to our AMC my only thought was “Buffalo had it this bad, sometimes. At least in Buffalo if the wind shifted, suddenly, Cheerios.”
It’s not the same stench as Solvay, New York. It’s not that strong, but it is organic rot that froze. If I were a betting man, I’d peg the filthy poisoned dead Kalamazoo River. The entire stream should be a brownfield superfund site.
Why would anyone live here? Oh yeah, that’s right, the streets are paved with gold. I forget sometimes.
Our water, like almost all municipal water is hard as a rock. There’s nothing in it. Just water and whatever maximums and minimums are federally mandated. Including lead and PFAS. And arsenic. To which we laugh and nod, right, yay.
Lime deposits build up over time and that leads to a cockeyed shower head. Water sprays sort of where it is expected to, but buildup of lime has altered the streams. There are about a hundred little nubbins where the streams exit. Last night? A random orientation of streams. Some going as expected, some going up, or left, whichever. Very helter-skelter.
But I have a trick. After learning that Vinegar can dissolve lime deposits given enough time, I find a water-safe plastic shopping bag, fill it with a cup or so of straight vinegar and tie the entire thing around the shower head. The entire shower head soaks overnight in the Vinegar brew. Then I take it off and pitch all of it. I tested it this morning after waking up. Hey look! It’s brand new! Yay!
The wonders of chemistry.