What?

The Mrs. and I got our hearing tested today. One of the nifty things about Tucson is the overabundance of medical places that enjoy teasing the populace with free stuff. Despite the joyful whistling/ringing of tinnitus that's significantly less enjoyable than holiday chimes pealing away in my head 24/7, the ear lady said I have excellent hearing. (That's what I heard, anyway.) Deb has slight hearing loss, but that's only when I ask her to make me chocolate chip cookies. Doesn't impact her too much, and it helps keep me on my diet. Grumpy, sure, but that happens with or without cookies.

Shopping

Dear Everybody Who Does It,

Here's the new rule: when you're in a store and traversing the aisles therein, do so in the same manner you would drive on the road. By that I mean for those of you in the states, stay to the right. If you have to stop, pull over and give the rest of us room to move around your bloated carcass. If you stop in the center, I get to stab you. If you go down the wrong side of the aisle, I get to stab you. If you pull the cart from the front rather than pushing it from the friggin' handle designed for that purpose, I get to stab you and shove your head through the cart so it gets all julienned. If you travel down the wrong side of the aisle and then look at me with gigantic, uncomprehending cow eyes, I not only get to stab you, but you're going to experience the thrill that is the store's industrial-strength meat grinder. Toes-first. If you have children and you need to go shopping, leave the kids at home. Or at a family member's house. Or a serial killer's house. Do not, under any circumstance, bring your children to the store. If you have no other recourse but to bring your children with you to the store, you can't come in. You can't even come in to the parking lot. (See all the stabbing rules, above.)