Here are three random thoughts from the past few weeks that have no unifying theme and don’t really warrant their own blog posts. But were too ridiculous to not share. Hence, my new feature: Three for Thursday.
…
I stopped by CVS on my way to work one morning last week. Even though I’m a morning person, the time change threw me off, so I was a bit groggy. As I used the self-checkout scanner, the persistent voice asked, “Do you have your Extra Care Card?”
Except my ears were foggy and I heard it as, “Extra HAIR Card.”
And I thought, “Now THAT would be a loyalty program. Hell yeah. Sign me up.”
…
On that same walk to work, I spotted two cranes in motion, high in the sky. (The construction kind, not the bird kind, but I can see how you might be confused.)
I looked at the little operator booth, some 20+ stories in the air, supported only by the narrow column of scaffolding. I shook my head, thinking, “No way would I ever be a crane operator – I don’t care HOW much the job pays.”
Then I thought, “Do they have to climb down that little ladder every time they have to pee?”
Then I realized they were probably like guys on a roadtrip, priding themselves on being able to pee into any container that had a lid. I shuddered to think of the Mountain Dew bottles the carried back down the ladder with them at the end of the day.
Also? Pretty sure there aren’t any crane operators with Crohn’s.
…
Laundry Philosophy. Can we agree that it’s not important to sort loads according to color? And that instead it is preferable to sort loads based on what touches your face vs. your butt?
I’d just feel so much better using a cloth napkin at your house if I knew you hadn’t washed it with your like-colored underwear.
pithypants 
That laundry philosophy final comment? Was that directed at me specifically?
You tell me: Have I unwittingly wiped my mouth with your underpants?
Um, there’s a decent chance the crane operators just pee off the side of the crane. Heads up. Err… down. And who washes their unmentionables with their jeans? Mine get washed in hot with the sheets and towels.
And that’s why crane operators are generally men. Because can you imagine hanging your ass out like you’re camping?
On an optimistic day laundry is sorted into “Pretty much darker” and “more lightish.”
And those construction cranes mystify me. How do they get them up? And more importantly, how come you never see one going up? They’re just… there, suddenly.
You raise a good point. It’s like the chicken/egg challenge: how do you raise a crane without another crane above it to build it? Great. Now I’m picturing Escher-esque construction pits.