Captain’s Log 5,784
A little snotball at Home Depot made an unwanted comment to me last night. I had a meeting later in the afternoon, and I stopped by the store to pick up bird supplies. The pigeons are gone so I can safely feed the finches, sparrows, and many others who visit my yard. I bought five bags of peanut suet pellets. I have a suet pellet feeder, so it only makes sense that I would buy suet pellets. Five bags will last me about 2 months. I also had 10 pounds of Nyjer thistle seed and 20 pounds of black oil sunflower seeds.
The cashier looked at me and said, “You bought too much food. You shouldn’t spoil your birds like that.”
Since when is it a cashier’s business how much bird food I buy? She has no idea how much I feed at a time or how often. She doesn’t know how many birds visit my little paradise either. What a little poop!
It’s that kind of intrusion into my life that makes me insane. I do NOT want people to come at me unannounced and offer advice or faux wisdom about that I do. I FOOKIN’ HATE THAT! And when people do that, it is my basic nature to resist them completely. Unless I am in danger of blowing up my car, walking through a miasma of plague, or falling out of a 20-story window, I really want people to just shut up and leave me alone.
Stay out of my bird food buying decisions!
So I got in the car and headed home. It was dark. I entered a really dark freeway ramp (for the locals who read here, it was Balboa eastbound onto the 805 southbound). As I was picking up speed on the ramp, a man (on foot) dressed in dark clothing appeared out of nowhere and crossed right in front of me. I slammed on my brakes. The car behind me slammed on his brakes and ended up beside me in the carpool lane – fortunately not in my back seat. The pedestrian then turned, flipped us both off, and yelled “Fucking losers!”
As far as I know, a freeway ramp is considered part of a freeway. That man had no business crossing it like it was a city street. Dark as pitch out there and wearing black clothing. I was certainly not expecting him to appear off to my left side and casually walk in front of my car. I was going at least 40-45 miles an hour. I would have killed him for sure.
I was just glad to get home. I made myself a light meal and read magazines while glancing at the Olympic coverage. I sympathized with Bob Costas and his pinkeye troubles while he tries to anchor the Olympics. He probably splashed some of that orange water in his face.
I went to bed and dreamed I was running a coffee cart in Sochi.