Here are three things I have a very difficult time with:
1. Band-Aids floating in swimming pools. Maybe the little white pad is smeared with just the faintest hint of blood; maybe its been bleached out entirely by the pool chemicals. No matter, it still ruins a good time. Here’s the thing: Band-Aids in pools are a social equalizer, like taxes and death. I’ve seen them floating in city park pools, at water slide pools, in the pools of very nice resorts, even a few times in the ocean. Band-Aids are in all bodies of water in which one can swim. If you see one, it’s best not to dwell on where it may have come from, which body part it covered. All the Band-Aids I see I pretend came off a nasty paper cut. All the Band-Aids that float by me were simply being used to hide a bruise. They were NOT covering up a weeping, infected facial wound. They were not being used to cover a recently-lanced boil. Nope. Definitely not.
2. Disposable dental flossers lying in the gutters. There is something about seeing a dental flossing instrument lying in a gutter or at the side of the road that greatly unnerves me. What may be even more unnerving, however, is the frequency with which I see them. I just saw one on Sunday night as we were walking into the Flaming Lips concert. You’d think that maybe I would blog about seeing the Flaming Lips, because they were awesome, but instead I keep picturing that dental flosser lying next to the curb on a pile of road dirt. I think this is a particularly strange fixation of mine because I also have a hard time throwing away a toothbrush. Not because I will miss it or want to hoard it but because something that was in my mouth is now getting pressed into the garbage with dirty tissues and what-have-you. It doesn’t even matter that I would never, ever pick that toothbrush up and use it again. It’s the thought that counts.
But perhaps this whole thing begs the question – who is walking and flossing? Who is the person who is conscientious enough to floss after a meal, on the go, but then throw the flosser on the ground, Mother Earth be damned? Doesn’t this cry out for further investigation? I mean, not examining the flossing implement, of course. But if you could catch someone in the act and simply ask them, “What are you doing?”
3. Shoes on the side of a road. Or next to a sidewalk. In a bush. Just, abandoned shoes, in general. Except the ones that people tie together in pairs and fling up into trees or onto power lines. I was told that means there’s a drug dealer in the area and he/she is open for business but perhaps that’s just an urban myth.
Abandoned shoes. That can never be good. Everyone needs shoes. Even if you’re having the kind of good time that doesn’t require shoes, you’re going to need them later when you try to go into the 7-11. No, abandoned shoes, particularly on the side of a highway, make me feel all lonely inside. And a bit creeped out. And sad. Who took your shoes? Who threw your shoes out the window of a moving van? Are you coming back for your black loafers? Your running shoes? Your plastic sandals? Your tiny Mary-Janes made of patent leather and with tiny buckles?
Maybe where you’re going, you don’t need shoes. Or maybe you got there and you kicked whoever took your shoes in the mouth. Maybe it was all a big mistake. Someone was clowning around and threw the shoes out the car window. Ha, ha ha. Ha.
No. Abandoned shoes are just wrong.