I’ve been keeping mental notes lately of things that seem strange to me, annoy me, or just make me shake my head and walk away.

Greeters – I’m happy that Wal-Mart saw fit to hire previously retired housewives and truck drivers to say “Hello” to me on those few occasions in the past that I actually entered one of their establishments. However, this trend is spreading into places it just shouldn’t spread. For instance, yesterday, I popped into IKEA to pick up a microwave stand for, well, my microwave and some added kitchen storage which seems to be seriously lacking in my new abode, when I was shakily “greeted” with a perky “Hello” from someone’s great-grandfather holding out a pad of paper and a golf-sized pencil.

Self Check-out stands – On the surface, this concept frightened me at first, though I must admit I tend to head for this lane before queuing up for some surly unionized cashier in the “staffed” lanes. I was afraid that I’d forget to scan something and would walk out of the store with said item in my bag and promptly be tackled to the ground by thuggish security guards all hot and sweaty in their ill-fitting polyester uniforms. We would struggle and roll around on the ground, the hard concrete rubbing mercilessly on my even harder… wait this isn’t a porn thought. Please accept my apology for that detour into the gutter that is my brain. Here’s a thought. Fire the fucking greeter and hire another cashier.

Traffic planning in Chicago – Here is a thought for any administration personnel that has any pull with the family mob Mayor. They are called turn lanes, let’s put up turn signals for those turn lanes. Other cities have them. They’re really quite reasonably priced and would save the residents of the city a hell of a lot of time trying to get thru a left turn light in any part of this city. Oh yeah, and how about timed lights. Why is it that Chicago can never seem to grasp this concept? Monday, I drove into the Loop from the western suburb via North Avenue (I had to stop at Crate and Barrel on North Ave.), and every single stop light for the entire what 20 miles was timed to turn red once the last turned green. There was not a single intersection I made it thru without having to stop for a light.

Is three enough? Maybe more? Only one was a rant. Really! The others were semi-rants. C’mon, I’m not angry anymore. I live alone. And that, as Martha would smile gleefully and say “is a good thing”.