Black box

I had a choice for dinner last night. Eat the teriyaki chicken breasts I had or go to the store where beef was on sale and get me some cow and vegetables. I chose cow. Getting some onions and peppers was an added bonus. Ever since I got a wok, I have been cooking all kinds of simple Chinese-like dishes. So far I have amazed myself. Nothing too fancy, but delicious.

Before I hit the grocery store, I decided to stop in the Home Depot next door. I was determined to replace my topless mailbox. Topless can be a good thing, but not in mailboxes. Sick of having mail frozen to the bottom, it had to go.

I walked around HD looking for the mailbox aisle. I read each tag on describing what was where. I did two laps without seeing anything. One thing that caught my eye was the Ralph Lauren paint. Huh? Who the hell gets designer paint? And what skill set do you need to develop designer paint? I then pictured yuppies sitting in their living room drinking their wine and bragging about the RL melon dew walls they have. I felt like walking up to someone in the paint department and slapping them.

After completing my laps, I figured I would ask someone. Though Home Depot likes to brag about how their employees can supposedly give advice and fix stuff, I am always leery. So I asked the girl behind the counter and she quickly says "Aisle 10". Sure as shit, there in big letters it says "mailboxes". I take a look and find exactly what I am looking for. Only $10 too. One big honkin' mailbox I can put on the pillar.

When I got home, I was pleasantly surprised to see the mailbox actually fit. I had to take the screws out a bit, bend the top of the lid back so it would open without taking the body of the box off the screws and damn it all if it doesn't look good. Maybe I will get a congratulatory note from the mailman. Or it will fall off soon.

Of course I forgot the HD gift card I had. Damn!

The grocery store crowd was interestingly boring. No one out of the ordinary. Well, maybe the old guy who had the bluetooth ear piece stuck out a bit. Or the guy in the Urlacher jersey who didn't have a coat on. I did see some snooty looking chick walking around like her crap don't stink, nose in the air. I thought "oh, look at Ms. High Society". Then I recalled there is a mens nudi mag of the same name and took a second look to see if she could be in it. Eh. She disappeared down an aisle. I would soon find her looking at maxi pads. Hmm...why is the contact lens solution right next to the feminine needs? Is the store trying to send a message?

I had my cows sections, some veggies, contact solution and other stuff. As I went to the check out I saw the express lane open. No one waiting. I did the quick count. 17 items. Damn, limit is 15. I could have probably used that checkout if I asked the lady nicely, but then again, it would take away opportunities to bitch about people who don't ask or try to get through with 20 items. I reserve my right to do so and went to the next lane where I had to wait for the guy to write out his frickin' check once everything was tallied. Like you could have everything but the price ready to go. Idiot.

On the way out the the parking lot, I noticed a person with sign stating they were hungry and homeless. That got me to thinking. Is standing outside a grocery store a brilliant place to be if you are looking for a handout, or is it bad? You would think one could make out like a bandit, but then again, all the food just purchased would most likely be in a trunk and not accessible to give away. Especially at the exit. I would get pissed if someone stopped, got out of there car, holding me up to go open their trunk. Personally, I thought of giving her a green pepper but that wouldn't do much for her. Plus, I would be a pepper short for my own Chinese food.

I then wondered if she had a can opener. Say you gave her a can of corn. Would she get pissed? She shouldn't because she says she is hungry and you gave her some food.

Just another reason to count your own blessings. Life can be a lot worse for some of us. I have been at a low- not homeless, but broke- and it ain't fun.