Choices

This morning I had a 10 am appointment with the dentist. As usual, I arrived early and as almost always here, this worked in my favour, so I was home at 1017.

Earlier, I’d gone for a thyroid test and sat around for 20 minutes while the technician had a loud and prolonged chit-chat with the previous patient. Perhaps it’s because I am not myself very talkative that I don’t understand the apparent need for constant (and often seemingly mindless) bavardage, in total disregard for anyone else’s time.

It made the promptness of the subsequent dental check-up all the more satisfactory.

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Medical practices usually don’t allow you to escape without first making a follow-up or future appointment, but just lately this seems to be changing. In my view, not a bad development but I wonder if it reflects changes in the medical world itself.

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In need of a few inexpensive household items, the other day we went off to Walmart. It is very useful for such things and includes a supermarket which is convenient. Out in Washington State we shopped at Fred Meyer where you could buy anything from food to furniture.

We often miss Fred when we shop at Hannaford’s which is strictly a supermarket. Our nearest Walmart is in Bennington which is not really any further, so why not just shop there?

Asking myself that question, I had the rather uncomfortable feeling that it spoke of prejudice against people who are – a bit odd? You are guaranteed to meet up with any number of quite unusual folk at Walmart. But in truth, I do not believe we are put off by them. What difference could anyone else’s appearance possibly make to us? No, I think it’s just that you can never be certain of finding what you need, or that the quality will be consistent, but this may well be unfair because we seldom go there these days.

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This time we were in search of a draining board and rack, such simple items, but the modern world has managed to create a range of choices even there! None as perfect as the one we had before. Not quite perfect, obviously, or we wouldn’t have been looking for a new set.

My first impression of the new-fangled arrangement was so-so. I pointed out to Grant that when stacking cat bowls on it, you have to be very precise. Otherwise they don’t stand up. I was told it is because this is a draining rack for plates, not cat dishes. What did I expect?

When it comes to washing up, we have always had different expectations! I like to place things tidily so that they fit nicely and neatly. His method is to pile it all up any which way. Previously, I’ll admit, it didn’t much matter since our dishes don’t amount to much.

Today, however, the man decided to cook one of his slightly more elaborate dishes. In the very old days, when on rare occasions I cooked, I washed up as I went along, so as not to end up with an overwhelming sink full of pots and pans when I was finished. When Grant cooks, every item must be utilised and every surface occupied, after which he does a major wash-up. This is when the dimensions and efficiency of our new draining rack came into question.

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Before it all came clattering down, I leapt in with a tea towel.

The new draining board on which the rack sits is a diminutive thing that sits flat so that water does not in fact drain at all. It does have a channel that is in theory supposed to drain into the sink, if you position the whole thing close enough, in which case it gets in your way as you wash up.

Clearly, what has happened here is that the thing was designed by someone who has never washed dishes.

‘Tis the way of the modern world, full of instant experts.

And too many choices.

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