So, hey, um, when I started writing here again, I DID mention that since November I have been assuming my former identity of Registered Nurse on a part-time basis, right? What? No? I didn’t mention that?

Ahem.

GUESS WHAT. Last October, once all our kids had been in school for a couple of solid months, I decided that I needed more to do all day every day than watching DVR’d episodes of SVU while blog surfing and Twittering and having pretend conversations with my two dogs and two cats and not surprisingly our bank account and Rob agreed. As did the two dogs and two cats.

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The Walgreens near my house has an aisle with a whole section dedicated to selling “As Seen On TV” products. Which, awesome, since I tend to be susceptible to the charismatic marketing tactics of the likes of one Billy Mays, but am also an unabashed impulse shopper which means four to six weeks shipping and handling time totally kills my instant gratification buzz. And my Walgreens is open 24 hours. Awe-some.

I went to the As Seen On aisle a couple of weeks ago looking for a bottle of Orange Glo, as my hardwoods are due for their yearly bimonthly weekly cleaning, and I have yet to find a cleaning product that doesn’t leave them a dull, streaky mess but Billy Mays promised me a brilliant luster that fills the air with the natural scent of a thousand bushels of ripe Florida oranges and a chorus of angels singing Hallelujah. Or some such.

That darned Billy Mays. He had me at hello.

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Dear Micky D’s,

Forget the fact that every trip through your drive through is a migraine-inducing exercise in determining which food, condiment, and/or utensil item was left out of one of my bags (Straws. Lately it’s always STRAWS).

Also, forget that unless I patronize your establishment at precisely the lunch or dinner hour then I can bet Oprah’s net worth my room-temperature French Fries will taste like stale canola oil.

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