Too Much Time on My Hands

This probably goes into the “I stand in line at stores and have way too much time to think” category.  This is a special type of grouping other than the “I have too much time on my hands” class.  There is a distinction in that standing in lines is a force of nature and not necessarily a chosen path.  I can justify in my head that if I have too much time on my hands, I can a) find something to fill that time or b) enjoy the time and do something totally frivolous and dare I say, for myself?  Standing in line, always behind the person with the cart loaded to the gills, is a time for reflection.  Call it a gift from the retailers, down time or idle movement where your thoughts can wander to the ever titillating covers of the “true story” magazines (three ton babies with 17 toes are real, aren’t they?), mosey through the “ladies” periodicals (I can still be a hottie at 45!), soap-opera weeklies (Is there hope for Luke and Laura?) or check out your horoscope (if all goes as predicted, my moon will be in the 7th house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, then peace will guide the planets and love will steer the stars– this might be a message for my big-daddy-yum-yum to interpret).  Or, after you spend five minutes gandering over the eye-candy, your thoughts may head towards more, shall we say, deeper thoughts?

Have you ever pondered how many times a chosen item in your shopping cart has traveled, been picked up, or moved before it is prepared and served for your family to eat?  Well, I have and my results may surprise you and give you a different perspective on the high costs that seem to permeate the market and a deeper appreciation for the little things in life.

Let’s take a simple, unassuming can of corn and look at its journey.  Starting out as just a little guy in Iowa where the farmers nurture and care for it, the corn stalk grows tall and straight, (with a little known fact that only three ears of corn grow on each stalk and with 800 kernels in 16 rows on each ear, there has to be a lot of corn grown to fill one of those cans).  Stay with me here, because at the time of harvest (it takes a couple of months of good weather and perfect conditions to grow corn), things start to happen.  The corn is taken to the granary, sold to the highest bidder and transported to the manufacturing plant where the corn goes under rigorous inspection, washing and canning.  Canned corn then is placed on a pallet, which is then moved to a warehouse for storage.  An order comes in for the corn, a forklift goes to the warehouse to find the corn to cart over to the truck that will bring it to either a grocery chain warehouse for distribution, but for sake of argument, lets say takes it directly to our local grocery.  The corn is placed in the loading dock, which in turn either stores the product in the back or moves it out front to sell.  I inconspicuously drive my shopping cart by, decide that corn would taste good with dinner tonight, take the can off the shelf and put the can in the cart.  Continue shopping then head for the check out. I go to stores that require you to put the items on the belt, so I must take out the can, hand it over to the clerk, who scans it and places it in a shopping bag.  I take the shopping bags, place them in the cart and head out to my car.  Take the bags out of the cart, put them into the car and drive home.  I then take the bags out of the car into the house, unload the bags, put the corn on the counter and then realize I want to go out to dinner and have to put the can into the pantry.  If I had the energy to cook I would have had to take the can, open the can, cook the contents, serve the tasty treat, pick up the remnants, dispose or save the leftovers and wash the dishes.  And to think, all of this cost me less than $1.00.  If you calculated all the travel and expenses for this corn (not including the exercise and entertainment it provided me), the cost would probably be prohibitive.

Okay, I am in denial.  It’s true, I do have too much time on my hands, and this information should go immediately into the vast reservoir of trivia to be used at a later time… a much later time.  But I bet you’ll never look at a can of corn the same. Happy line standing!

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life. Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-