We truly dislike having to go anyplace we can not get to either on foot or two wheels, so the good mood that had settled in last Saturday morning after a pleasant transaction at Reser Bike, where we had found the exactly correct lubricant cum cleaner needed to clean up the sordid personal bicycle chain and received a quick tutorial in its use from the bright lad at the counter, had worn off well before the Stewart Road exit from I71, miles and miles and miles from our walkable limits on our way to Trader Joe’s with a list of things to be found only at Trader Joe’s which is the only reason we would submit ourselves to such a trek to such a wasteland. When we had filled our basket with enough unfair trade coffee, dried mangoes, doctor-prescribed chocolate, and a month’s worth of assorted frozen rice concoctions, we were agreeably surprised to see that our checkout person would be Howard, the refugee from the carnage that is twenty-first century publishing, with whom we traded news as quickly as possible so as not to upset those in line behind us. Howard is v. happy to be working regular hours and has become reacquainted w/ Mrs. H.. We did not know, however, whether he was truly happy or corporate happy, since all the Trader Joe sales professionals seem to be at the same level of bliss which they are all eager to share with their shopping friends. We complained to Howard about the ridiculous distance to his establishment and were told that we should stuff it, that it wasn’t that far, that it would be the only Trader Joe’s in the county, that people come all the way from Louisville, and that there would never be consideration of another. We thought that was pretty nervy since Columbus has two of the hyperhip groceries, and Detroit has five or six. Why dis Cincinnati, we ask?
We got home in a black mood, opened the mango packet and gnawed while we finished reading Brent Ghelfi’s The Venona Cable. We think Brent Ghelfi is v. v. good. Please join us in complaining to the Trader Joe management. The store is much smaller and less complete than the one in Royal Oak, Michigan, by the way.