Broken Road Confessionals: July 9, 2014

**I am a firm believer in "to each their own." I love baseball, but loathe basketball, for example. To me, basketball is merely two hours of squeaky sneakers. I'll pass. (Heh.) Likewise, I suppose I could see how baseball could seem like a lot of standing around and spitting and very little action, if you don't understand the game. Whatever. You watch your sport, I'll watch mine. But those little Smart Cars? Aside from the fact that they look freakishly unsafe, I just cannot take you seriously when you're driving around in something that looks like a cartoon mated with a golf cart.

**I read a blog post where the author found not one but two scorpions in her house. She included photographic evidence. I thought spiders and "palmetto bugs" were terror-inducing. Well, I am here to inform you that if I ever discover a scorpion? I quit.

**I hate trying to sleep when I'm too warm (especially my feet -- too warm feet will wake me right up and I will be twelve different kinds of cranky), so when I am on my way to bed, I knock the thermostat back one degree. Of course, it gets cooler as the night wears on, and usually in the wee hours of morning, wearing my summer jammies and sleeping under just a light sheet, I get a little chilly. The other morning, I groped around groggily for the blanket (which gets folded back with the comforter every night), and, as I pulled it up, it caught on something. I lost my grip and managed to punch myself right in the face. I opted to go back to sleep instead of checking, but when I got up, I was a little worried I would have to explain a black eye. (Just a slightly swollen eyelid. Whew.) They should have named me Grace.

**I always cringe a little when I'm waiting in a longer line at the grocery store and I'm right next to the express lane. I actually try to pick lanes that aren't adjacent, but sometimes it can't be avoided and I am at the mercy of the head cashier that chooses which lanes will be open. There's no one in the express lane and, as they do at Publix, the cashiers hang out at the entrance to their lane, waiting for their next customer. Inevitably, despite my every effort to avoid eye contact, they will wave me into their lane with my cart full of far more than ten items. Reluctantly, I back out of my lane and start unloading my shopping spoils...and then someone with a loaf of bread and a six-pack of Pepsi walks up behind me. They look at all my groceries, glaring, and then bore holes into the back of my head, because "look at the self-important woman who thinks she's too good to wait in the regular line and clearly can't count, because that's easily three times the ten item limit." I know the cashier thinks they're being helpful, but I wither under that kind of judgment.