I have fallen far short of my solemn commitment to being right twice a day this week. The posting deficit has nagged at my heart as I'm sure it has nagged at yours. I did, however, expend a great deal of this week's blogging time training for my new job, which consists primarily of processing auto repair orders and selling death in cigarette and junk food form. I am proud to say, however, that on my first day the state health department targeted Newport Hills Chevron, sending in a wee 17-year-old to try to buy a pack of Marlboros. Ignoring the growing pack of customers annoyed at my slowness at the register, I suspiciously eyed this tiny creature and requested photo I.D. She diffidently produced it, revealing that she doesn't reach the age of 18 until late July. I had no choice - she had to be made to leave without the coveted cigarettes; gently but firmly, I told her so. Within a few moments the health cop entered the station and announced my success to the room, inspiring the (still quite long) line of customers to reward me with spatters of scattered, random applause. This small triumph, I think, trumps whatever contribution I might otherwise have made to the discourse.
