Been thinking about blankets lately. More accurately, I've been thinking about them for the past 48 hours. Mostly because I've been huddled under one. Or two. Or three to stave off the chill from food poisoning.
It could've been the after effects of the swordfish we picked up at Whole Foods. Or maybe too much saccharine entered my body after Ms. Muse and I mistakenly went to a rainy Sunday afternoon viewing of Arthur The King.
In any case, the salmonella/e.coli bout hit me with the force of an Al Kaline signed Louisville Slugger.
Having spent excessive time shivering, sweating, shivering some more, it occurred to me that blankets are one of the oldest accessories known to mankind. Our ancestors, tired from a day of hunting and gathering and intimidating encroaching members of another homonid tribe, would curl up next to a fire and throw an old bison skin over them for warmth.
And humility.
We've made so many advances over the millions of years since the early bi-peds. Why haven't the genii who gave us the Internet of Things taken a crack at blankets.
I suspect that when the Pottery Barn, Pier 1 and Restoration Hardware people have filed for the Chapter 11 and chained up their last remaining store in Fairbanks, Alaska, some new Thomas Edison will look at our old fashioned bedding linen model and come up with something new.
Why not a bed that reads our body temperature and automatically adjusts the surroundings for maximum comfort? Why should my jar of mayonnaise have creature comforts in the form of a perfect climate but I (and you) am denied the same luxury?
As my time walking and annoying this planet draws to a close I have spent inordinate hours wondering what kind of innovations will replace the ones we saw last week. Which seemingly have replaced the ones we saw two weeks ago.
Why do we have to mow our lawns? We have seedless watermelons. What about mowless lawns?
Hasn't the whole washer/dryer motif worn out its welcome? Seems to me that if strip mall shops have mastered the art of dry cleaning, we ought to have one in our very own closets.
Wear a shirt then hang that same shirt in the Dry Cleaning closet and bam it's clean. Please bear in mind I have no idea what dry cleaning is or what it entails. I only know that it should be in my closet.
Finally, and I won't go into ANY detail here, for reasons that should be obvious, but it seems to me the next Elon Musk is waiting in the wings to conquer our truly last frontier of antiquity -- Toilet Paper.
Apologies to Luke Sullivan, but Charmin can go straight to hell, there's gotta be a better way.
No comments:
Post a Comment