Monthly Archives: April 2015


An educated, professional woman-friend of mine recently went on vacation. She had one glorious day. She caught a nasty virus and spent the rest of the week sick and miserable. She came home and spent two more weeks recovering from having been sick and miserable. Pay attention people…I don’t normally travel…but when I do, Lysol is my best friend. I don’t walk around with a can of Lysol strapped to my head like a minor’s helmet…because such technology does not yet exist. I’ve come pretty close, however.

Follow this closely…I am using a motel room as a mind-walking example: Mind-walk yourself into your hotel/motel vacation abode (pricey vs. cheap is irrelevant) and see yourself…touching stuff. Holding a can of Lysol firmly in one hand, stiff-arm, point, and spray the following (note: this listing is not all inclusive because different people touch different stuff):

  • All door handles. Including the little bitty one on the little bitty microwave and the little bitty refrigerator.
  • All light switches. Including the lamps.
  • The telephone. Receiver and buttons.
  • Those stick things that dangle from the drapes to allow you to jerk the drapes opened and closed.
  • All faucets.
  • Definitely saturate the toilet handle.
  • THE BIG ONE: The remote control. You have no idea where that thing may have been. Better yet…spray it and then push the buttons with the non-brushy end of a toothbrush (you may want to pack an extra toothbrush).This has been a public service announcement and applies not only to hotel/motel rooms but is equally relevant to time sharing abodes or even when visiting the home of a family member. Familial germs can still pack a punch. However, do be discreet. Unless your goal is to never be invited back…in that event, strap a can of Lysol to your forehead and go for it. DSC00041


It is my belief that my local Dollar General store is the portal to an alternate dimension. The entrance lacks the science fiction flash of the pulsating goo of Star Gate and there is no magical quirkiness as in Harry Potter’s train station. However, when I wrestle one of the too-large carts down the crowded aisle beyond the entrance, all meaningful relationships with the outside world cease to have meaning.

Short, maze-like aisles that feel as though the store was designed with hamsters in mind are crammed with stuff. I poke around and read the ingredients in meaningless items. When I move into a new aisle and encounter another customer, I flinch and retreat to the previous aisle until the rude interloper has moved on. I inventory the socks to learn whether a different brand has been introduced. I check to see whether the shower curtain display has been refreshed with any new patterns. I am never in the market for a shower curtain, but I always check.

I watched the news last night. The world is on fire and my government has neglected to assure that there are functional batteries in our smoke detectors. When I need for my world to be simple and safe, I go to Dollar General. They have an entire section stocked with batteries. When I am preparing to check-out, it doesn’t matter which counter I approach because there will inevitably be a sign advising me to go around to the other counter. I suspect this mild irritation/disappointment upon exiting the establishment is intentional; a gauntlet of preparedness upon re-entering the outside world. I have to go back, and I’m scared.

I’ll come back tomorrow and see whether Dollar General carries fire extinguishers.