If I’m Lying, I’m Dying (Stop Me If You’ve Heard–Or Don’t Like Really Long Titles)

There’s comfort in the familiar.  On every trip “home” for the Holidays, GPS insists on routing through Mississippi, Tennessee, then Kentucky.  I ignore it for the first part of the journey–it’s been a tradition for several decades.

Four hours to Birmingham, two more hours to Nashville, then another five hours.  Rest stops, unforeseen traffic delays, add another hour or more.

Why, now, have rush-hour delays in Birmingham and Nashville become unacceptable?  Except, for the first 45 miles, it’s all interstate highway.  Google maps promised to cut an hour off the trip. The prospect of new routing at 4 am departure time is less than thrilling.

Leftovers from Thanksgiving: Why did three major St. Louis Metro grocery chains not carry my favorite orange juice with pulp?  Yes, I like my orange juice lumpy and pulpy.  Different strokes.

The same three major chains did not carry “Grands” frozen biscuits–the pre-formed, patted out kind, unlike the ones in a tin.  They taste better, have a more flaky texture–almost like the ones grandma made from scratch.  Maybe I’ll take my own OJ and biscuits with me next time?  That’ll show ’em.

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Author: warturoadam77p

65 year old married retired communications worker with three grown children, transplanted from the Midwest to the sunny Gulf Coast.

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