Well so much for the idea that I can just go back to ordering from Sav-on.
I forgot my password to their site and apparently so did Chrome, which is tres bizarre because I ordered from Sav-on Ironwood for years from this very browser and it filled my password in for me flawlessly back then.
Hence my not being able to remember it.
And I didn’t add it to my notes either, which is unlike me, but (ahem) not as unlike me as I would like it to be.
I keep forgetting that I’m absentminded.
So I am back to square one in regards to ordering my groceries. And increasingly resentful of Instacart for putting me through all this shit.
I don’t know why retail websites occasionally decide they hate my credit card and refuse to let me use it.
Maybe they just can’t believe that anyone honest genuinely gets a new credit card once a month. If it wasn’t happening to me, I might not believe it either.
But now I have to find another way to get my damn groceries and it pisses me off.
I wonder if Real Canadian Superstore has a non-Instacart option for delivery?
Warning, Gen X rant incoming.
I wrote this in a YouTube comment earlier today and thought it was interesting and well written enough that I wanted to preserve it here :
I think one of the things that unites Gen X is the universal assumption by our parents that they could do whatever the hell they wanted and we would just have to adapt.
I think I hit the nail on the head there.
Our Boomer parents, the “me” generation,. did what they wanted it and it was simply impossible for them to even conceive of putting someone else’s needs and desires before their own.
Oh sure, they love to bitch and moan about all they “sacrificed” for their kids, but let me ask you this : how much did they REALLY sacrifice?
Do you really think that if they had never had kids, they would have been happy flipping burgers or digging ditches? Of course not. They went for the middle class life they wanted and got the middle class jobs they wanted and just happened to have kids along the way because they thought they wanted those, too.
And by the time they figured out we actually had needs and desires of our own, it was too late, we were already there.
No problem, they collectively thought. We’ll just ignore our kids needs and desires if they conflict with our own.
After all, what are they going to do about it? They’re just kids!
And so we X’ers grew up knowing we were not the most important things in our parents’ lives. They were.
That is why they invented the concept of “quality time” spent with your kids.
Because they knew they were way too self to spend QUANTITY time with us.
So they effortlessly convinced themselves that spending an hour here and an hour there – you know, whatever they felt they could spare for doing something they didn’t get anything out of – would be just as good as what came before.
Or it wouldn’t be. Who knows. They didn’t care. They didn’t give it a single thought.
After all, they were all about “me, me, ME!”.
The only thing they “sacrificed” was money, and you have to start from a nearly sociopathic level of selfishness to consider absolutely any money you spend on something other than yourself to be a big “sacrifice”.
“I’m a hero because I actually spend some of MY money to clothe, feed, and house the children I decided to bring into the world!”
“Oh well I’m an even bigger hero because I even let them live with me and touch my stuff I even gave them their own separate room in the house!”
Oh, how you have suffered.
More after the break.
Hmm. My McD’s order somehow went from 13 mins away to 16 mins away.
This means either that McD’s has somehow gotten further away (quick, follow those arches!) or my driver went the wrong way.
This should be good. With the way things have been going lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if he got sucked into an alternate timeline where Hitler was a high successful cabaret performer in Stuttgart.
Let us see what shall arise.
We stand on guard for…
…a bunch of shit that probably isn’t even real.
No complications with my McD’s. I wonder how many times they will have to deliver competently before I stop being paranoid and hostile about it.
Knowing me, probably way too many.
Then when it DOES happen again – as it inevitably will – by the bizarre calculus of depression/anxiety, I will blame myself for relaxing my vigilance.
That makes literally no sense.
How in hell would being “alert” help? Am I going to message my driver with detailed and very patronizing instructions every time? Will I be lying in wait for them in the foyer? Am I going to spring for Kleig lights to point at this apartment?
No. That would be crazy, he said in an eerily calm voice.
For the most part, trying to control outcomes by anticipating problems is a waste of time. I only end up robbing myself of happiness and contentment with absolutely no tangible or meaningful benefit to compensate for it.
I can’t see a way out of it except to go in the opposite direction and decide I don’t give a fuck what happens to me, I am just going to grab all the enjoyment I can before the whole damned thing goes up in flames.
A very anti=pragmatic idea, which is probably why it appeals to me. My lifelong pragmatism is great for remaining focused on what matters on an operational level, but it doesn’t leave much room for rainbows and glitter and little red foxes who don’t want to be tied down to the real any more.
There might not be more to the universe than what is materially real.
But there’s a hell of a lot more to life.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.