Roulette scale
“186.5 pounds,” our bathroom scale said last Tuesday morning, September 6, 2011.
“Well,” I thought to myself; “my weight seems to be dropping. Perhaps it’s the lack of working-out in the YMCA Exercise-Gym, and walking our dog instead.”
The Canandaigua YMCA is closed all week for maintenance, as it does every year after Labor Day.
“194.5 pounds,” our scale said the next morning, Wednesday, September 7, 2011.
“Oh yes,” I thought to myself, a bit surprised.
“This is the roulette scale. Readings are always ballpark, and all over the map.”
Ya don’t gain eight pounds in one day.
“192 pounds,” it said the next morning, yesterday, September 8, 2011.
Today it said “189.5.”
“It’ll be nice to get back to the medical scale at the Canandaigua YMCA,” I thought.
“It’s the one I trust. It’s consistent.”
Our roulette scale is from Mighty Wal*Mart, which my siblings loudly insist is the finest store in the entire universe.”
The fact I avoid it proves I’m stupid and of-the-Devil.
(This comes with being a Democrat [gasp!].)
I’ve had difficult shopping experiences at Wal*Mart, like -a) being hugged and kissed by a urine-smelling geezer-greeter, and -b) being snapped at by two store-associates for interrupting their day-long donut-break by having the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to ask where something was.
It’s also inconvenient, and I can never find anything inside.
I also don’t think a two-cent-per-pound saving for bananas is worth five dollars in gas to get there and back.
The Canandaigua Wal*Mart is not on a main drag.
You have to navigate the adjacent Lowes parking-lot to get there.
It’s also about a mile past my usual supermarket.
But we needed a bathroom scale.
Our old scale was a hand-me-down from the ‘50s, something from an older relative who had died.
So off we went to Wal*Mart, although we were probably also looking for dish-towels.
Their selection of dish-towels was puny.
“Is this all they got?” my wife asked. “I thought Wal*Mart had everything.”
She was reprising what my siblings always tell me: “Wal*Mart has everything!”
We stumbled upon bathroom scales after hiking the giant store.
They were near the displayed bagless vacuum-cleaners, that look like rejects from the Star Wars cantina set.
There were quite a few bathroom scales, but all appeared to be digital.
Batteries were included.
I zeroed in on a Taylor scale.
Taylor is the famous instrument-maker in Rochester, NY. They have a venerable reputation.
But the scale wasn’t made in Rochester. It was made in China, probably by child slave-labor.
That’s our roulette scale; readings always ballpark, that fluctuate so much ya can’t go by them.
Sold to us by the finest store in the entire universe; and I’m stupid and of-the-Devil for avoiding it.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named the “Wellness-Center,” usually three days per week, about two-three hours per visit. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.
• Walking the dog is about four-five miles, her pulling the whole way. Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s six, and is our sixth Irish-Setter. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad.)
“Well,” I thought to myself; “my weight seems to be dropping. Perhaps it’s the lack of working-out in the YMCA Exercise-Gym, and walking our dog instead.”
The Canandaigua YMCA is closed all week for maintenance, as it does every year after Labor Day.
“194.5 pounds,” our scale said the next morning, Wednesday, September 7, 2011.
“Oh yes,” I thought to myself, a bit surprised.
“This is the roulette scale. Readings are always ballpark, and all over the map.”
Ya don’t gain eight pounds in one day.
“192 pounds,” it said the next morning, yesterday, September 8, 2011.
Today it said “189.5.”
“It’ll be nice to get back to the medical scale at the Canandaigua YMCA,” I thought.
“It’s the one I trust. It’s consistent.”
Our roulette scale is from Mighty Wal*Mart, which my siblings loudly insist is the finest store in the entire universe.”
The fact I avoid it proves I’m stupid and of-the-Devil.
(This comes with being a Democrat [gasp!].)
I’ve had difficult shopping experiences at Wal*Mart, like -a) being hugged and kissed by a urine-smelling geezer-greeter, and -b) being snapped at by two store-associates for interrupting their day-long donut-break by having the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to ask where something was.
It’s also inconvenient, and I can never find anything inside.
I also don’t think a two-cent-per-pound saving for bananas is worth five dollars in gas to get there and back.
The Canandaigua Wal*Mart is not on a main drag.
You have to navigate the adjacent Lowes parking-lot to get there.
It’s also about a mile past my usual supermarket.
But we needed a bathroom scale.
Our old scale was a hand-me-down from the ‘50s, something from an older relative who had died.
So off we went to Wal*Mart, although we were probably also looking for dish-towels.
Their selection of dish-towels was puny.
“Is this all they got?” my wife asked. “I thought Wal*Mart had everything.”
She was reprising what my siblings always tell me: “Wal*Mart has everything!”
We stumbled upon bathroom scales after hiking the giant store.
They were near the displayed bagless vacuum-cleaners, that look like rejects from the Star Wars cantina set.
There were quite a few bathroom scales, but all appeared to be digital.
Batteries were included.
I zeroed in on a Taylor scale.
Taylor is the famous instrument-maker in Rochester, NY. They have a venerable reputation.
But the scale wasn’t made in Rochester. It was made in China, probably by child slave-labor.
That’s our roulette scale; readings always ballpark, that fluctuate so much ya can’t go by them.
Sold to us by the finest store in the entire universe; and I’m stupid and of-the-Devil for avoiding it.
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named the “Wellness-Center,” usually three days per week, about two-three hours per visit. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where we live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —We live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.
• Walking the dog is about four-five miles, her pulling the whole way. Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s six, and is our sixth Irish-Setter. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad.)
posted by BobbaLew at 10:36 AM
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