A weekday with Ernie

Inspired by ad legend Ernie Schenck, who was inspired by Nora Ephron, who shortly before she died at age 71, made a list of things she will miss and things she won't miss upon crossing the human rainbow bridge. Ernie shortened the option down to 3, so I decided to partake in the challenge.

First the three things I won't miss:

1. I will not miss cockroaches. Insects in general do not bother me. I never understood the deathly fright many people experience with spiders. They're slow, easy to catch and from what little I know about the Arachnid world, do not spread disease and with few exceptions bite people. 

Roaches on the other hand are fast. When found in my house it is always a heart stopping experience. And in order to kill them I have to find a newspaper or a can of Chloronitrodextramethdioxine, which is never handy and not always effective. By the time I've done that the damn roach could have escaped and already made its way to New Mexico. 

Also having spent many years working in the kitchens of many restaurants I had the unfortunate experience of not seeing one roach at a time, but thousands of the scurrying bastards. BTW, word to the wise, EVERY restaurant you have eaten at or will eat at, has cockroaches. But as the old joke goes, "They don't eat much."

2. I will not miss cigarette smoke. I abhor the smell of burning tobacco. It stymies my appetite. It puts me off. And it indicates a general lack of awareness and inconsideration by the people who indulge. I'm over here enjoying a meal or a day at the beach or even a hike in the mountains, but because you need your nicotine fix you're gonna light up a cigarette and invade my personal breathing space with your filthy habit? And perchance a case of second hand smoke cancer? FO.

I don't want to offend friends and family who partake, but you should also know that after you put your cigarette out, you smell. You smell like you doused yourself with a bottle of Eau De Ashtray. 

3.  I will not miss waiting. Young women often talk about their biological clocks and the pressing need to have children. Not my daughters of course, who seem determined to deny me any grandchildren, but many. The truth is we're all on biological clocks. Our time here is limited. And you probably shouldn't be wasting any of it reading this blog. But at least that's a choice you have made.

The waiting that bothers me is often the result of other people: traffic on the 405, backed up because some negligent schmuck forgot to fill his gas tank and is now stuck in the middle lane. Or restaurant hosts/hostesses who don't have a sense of rhythm or logic and seat couples at tables built for 4. There's an art of working that reception area, unfortunately it is not known to many. "Come on already, I don't have all day to wait for your legendary dim sung, I have a Dirt Nap coming up any day, week, month or year now."

And the three things I will miss (I know these pages have turned maudlin as of late, so I will skip the obvious and refrain from any melancholy, including my wife, my kids, my family, my dog and my friends):

1. I will miss Tomahawk steaks. When my local supermarket started carrying them they were 8.99 a lbs. Today, with global supply chain issues and the consequential rising costs, Tomahawks are double that price. But still worth it when cooked to perfection, topped with butter and a dab of bleu cheese and accompanied by crispy Oreida Tater Tots. Don't judge me.

2. I will miss swimming. I haven't been swimming in a few years, since the Before Times. But those 13 readers who come here regularly know that I had a vigorous daily swimming routine. A discipline that superseded all other needs, particularly those that involved writing copy, copy that would be rejected wholesale, by children (the under 35 crowd) who had never been associated with the creation of good work in their entire careers. Swimming, often a mile a day, put all that into a different perspective. I need to get back in the water.

3. I will miss laughter. And if may tweak a little Paul McCartney, "And in the end, the laughter you take is equal to the laughter you make."

Damnit, I promised not to get melancholy.