Walking Will Kill You

There must be some sort of conspiracy out there, it’s the only explanation I can come up with. Our healthcare experts tell us we need 10,000 steps a day, we have apps, bands and trackers galore to ensure we get there, and yet I see things around me that make me fairly certain it’s a bad idea. What other explanation could there be?

Yesterday at a large big box store, on a lovely sunny day, an otherwise healthy man in his 40’s took his purchases from his cart and put them into his car, got into his car and drove off, leaving the cart in the middle of the stall next to where he was parked. He could have pushed the cart 10 feet away onto a sidewalk, or 30 feet to the cart corral, but he didn’t. He just left it there, taking up a parking space. It got me to thinking (after a few choice curse words in my head), why did he do that? Ah, the dreaded “If I walk a few extra feet out of my way, I’ll die, disease”, of course!

Look around next time you’re out, I’ll bet you see more than a few people that do that. They won’t take the cart back to the cart corral, but they will sure swear up storm if their old POS car gets another scratch because “some lazy SOB left a cart where it shouldn’t have been!”

Then there are the ones that just have to have that parking spot that is three slots closer, and they will wait…and wait…and wait…while the kid with the shiny new driver’s license and mom’s car is backing out alone for the first time, scared to death and moving 2 mph. Meanwhile no one can get by, tempers flare, all because someone didn’t want to walk an extra 30 feet. Really? Because walking will kill you, of course! Doesn’t everyone know that?

Under their clothes are they like the wicked witch of the West, made of sugar and will melt in the rain? Ohh, look, it’s sprinkling and all that’s left of the chick with the stick straight, shiny hair is her push up bra and flip flops. Remember Kathy Bates’ character of Evelyn in the movie “Fried Green Tomatoes” when she yells “Tawanda”? There is this little voice in my head hollering “serves you right for always using a flat iron on your hair and wearing a wonder bra!”

I have a good friend who uses the phrase “karmic kickback” and I imagine that one day the gentleman (and I use that phrase loosely) who left the cart in the parking stall will come back to a store, in the rain, and find the spot he wants blocked by a cart, forcing him to walk farther. If Karma is doing her job, he will have forgotten his umbrella, his raincoat, and the wind will be blowing. And as he runs to the store, someone will come along driving a smidge too fast and hit that big puddle in the road at just the right speed, making a big splash. On him.

Shiny! (Thanks, Joss Whedon.)


Putting on My Big Girl Pants…

As I now must admit I’ve passed one milestone in my life and have a nodding acquaintance with middle age, and am approaching another as I near completion of my studies in graduate school – finally! – it’s time to start doing some of the things that I’ve either said I would, or have envied others for doing. Improve my photography skills enough to win local awards, and perhaps be published; not miss sending anyone a birthday card all year long (no, really!); start my novel;  write a blog (thank you Diane Henders, for a little push, and a lot of inspiration.)

It’s been an interesting life so far, and boy am I going to have fun just making it get better and better!