Wastin' time

I'm getting older. (Am I a deep thinker or what?) Realizing my time on earth is finite, I want back the many hours I have wasted:

 Downloading new versions of iTunes. Apple is becoming as obnoxious and undependable as Microsoft. The latest version, which took a half hour to download yesterday then froze my MacBook, is ridiculously complicated compared to the first 40 or 50 versions.

Watching Lost on ABC. By the end of season one, it was clear the writers didn’t know where they were going with the storyline. That became clearer in year two when they introduced lots of new characters without resolving the issues of the original ones. I watched season three, but sat out seasons four, five and six because I felt taken advantage of. I resumed watching in season seven, the final year, because ABC promised everything would be cleverly and creatively resolved and all questions would be answered. The ending was a cop-out and proved the writers had begun the series with no plot or resolution in mind. Now I’m feeling the same way about Mad Men, whose writers have introduced lots of new characters to divert attention from the fact they don’t know what to do with the original characters. The most recent season sucked -- especially the finale. 

Listening to John Grisham describe coffee. We always get a Grisham audio book for the long drive between Florida and Connecticut. His books could be contained on five or six CDs rather than 11 or 12 if Grisham’s characters didn’t spend so much of their time interacting with coffee. They think about it. They crave it. They miss it. They would give their left arms for coffee this very minute. They stop in the middle of chase scenes to order it. Some take sugar. Some take cream. Some take it black. Sometimes they order espresso. Or cappuccino. They get it at Starbucks. At diners. In fancy restaurants. From room service. On airplanes. If I had back the many hours I’ve spent listening to Grisham’s endless coffee descriptions I could have listened to Rosetta Stone CDs and learned to speak Swahili. Grisham should choose a Mormon to be the hero of his next book but it would be a novella, not a novel.

Trying to start my keyless car: My car doesn't have a key. It has an electronic fob you're supposed to have in your pocket when you push a button on the dashboard that supposedly sends a signal to the engine to start the car. Problem is, much of the time it doesn't work. I spent 15 minutes in a supermarket parking lot the other day pushing the damned button repeatedly as the ice cream I had just purchased melted. Finally the car decided it had punished me enough and started. I want a car with a metal key I can turn in the ignition slot but I don't think they make them any more.

Waiting on the phone with Comcast because, once again, the pay per view function of my cable TV service isn’t working. A recorded voice announces how important my business is … that she is looking for my account … and that she is examining my account. The voice then says the call center is experiencing extremely heavy volume and I will have to call back. If I die of a stress-induced heart attack or stroke, it will be as I’m waiting on the phone to speak to a human at Comcast and I authorize my faithful readers to sue the company for loss of my companionship.

Writing this post.  I see the readership stats and few of you read blogs posted on summer weekends. But hey, it's my blog and if you want waste your time reading it, that’s your business.