Time again to clear my head of small gripes, items so inconsequential they’re not worth whole columns, nor will they help you grasp the arcane details of political recounts.
But I figure if they bother me, they might be annoying you, too.
Think of the following as constructive criticism.
Drought in the sink: Washed your hands in a public place lately? Good luck with that.
With flu vaccine more scarce than parking at Alderwood mall, we’re supposed to be properly scrubbing our grimy paws. Lately, I’ve stood at sinks in some of the most crowded spots around, the mall and Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.
Before I could wash, I waited and wished.
Water, apparently, is so precious it’s being dispensed by high-tech, low-flow fixtures in tiny bursts. I don’t have a maniacal hand-washing compulsion. I don’t like being wasteful. I just don’t want to get sick.
I’m not the only one miffed. Rick Zahalka, Snohomish Health District food and living environment program manager, said in restaurant settings “mechanically metered faucets are required to run 15 seconds before shutting off.”
“Many of them shut off shorter than that,” he said. “It’s a problem.”
Spring-loaded mechanical faucets are meant to slowly shut off after a knob is depressed. Other fixtures detect motion using infrared signals.
“Those sinks should continue as long as a hand is moving in front of them,” Zahalka said.
I must be doing something wrong. They start, then quickly shut off. And the water’s not hot.
Mike Young, environmental health specialist with the health district, said a state code regarding schools requires a 10-second flow of warm water up to 120 degrees Fahrenheit.
The too-cool problem happens when water is stuck in the line between the faucet and hot-water heater, Zahalka said. “The person washing their hands should flush the line. But in a lot of public places, people don’t have time.”
Health district spokeswoman Suzanne Pate said a thorough hand-washing rule of thumb “is to sing the ‘Happy Birthday’ song – twice.”
In some restrooms, “How Dry I Am” is more fitting.
Commercial “Weight”: Tell me if this means anything to you: “I pulled in to Nazareth, was feeling ‘bout half past dead. Just needed some place where I can lay my head.”
I don’t watch much TV. What I do watch, news mostly, is heavily targeted with ads for investment companies and cellphone plans.
Cingular Wireless, a name that would have seemed alien in the 1960s, has taken as its commercial jingle – yeah, jingle – a song called “The Weight.” If you’re my age, you know it.
Song No. 5 on The Band’s 1968 “Music From Big Pink” album – yeah, album – is a cryptic stew of Americana, rootsy music and mythic language. It’s a masterpiece, nothing less.
I’ve been loving Robbie Robertson’s song, accompanied by the soulful Staple Singers, on a DVD of “The Last Waltz,” a documentary film of The Band’s last concert.
I have not been enjoying it one bit as a pitch piece for Cingular, newly merged with AT&T Wireless. If Robertson is getting rich, or richer, through this puzzling connection, I’ve lost a hero. If he’s not getting rich, it’s worse.
Eve of destruction: I wasn’t going to mention this last grievance, but I’m mad and getting madder. Certainly, I’m poorer.
A few Saturday nights ago, somebody smashed the driver’s side window of the Ford Escort my kids drive. It was parked in front of our house. Across the rear door remains a faint mark of the smashing tool – a baseball bat, maybe.
Police were called, a report was made, a window is fixed. With young drivers, I didn’t need another insurance claim. So I’m out $287.
I’m convinced it was random, not related to me, anything I’ve written, or anyone at my house. Random, stupid and mean.
The rat better be hoping that what goes around does not come around.
Whew, I’m feeling better – I think.
Columnist Julie Muhlstein: 425-339-3460 or muhlstein julie@heraldnet.com.
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