Witches and Armed Birds

Romania may toughen its laws about witches, I read in the morning on line headlines, and Man killed by armed bird at cockfight. Witches and armed birds?

A little research turns up the facts that the witches are actually throwing mandrake root into the Danube to protest tax hikes and that the rooster had a knife strapped to one leg, presumably not his own idea. More power to the witches. The guy at the cockfight got what he deserved. I mourn the loss of a world that makes sense.

In line again at the drive thru, this time wedged between a Fedex truck and a tiny green electric car - the stuff of which nightmares are made - I listen to the driver ahead of me trying to order a salad with lite ranch dressing. The concept of McDonald's offering salads is clearly new to the employee in the booth as she struggles to comprehend the order for several minutes and in the end the car ahead simply stops trying and pulls up to the first window. Unhappily, my order for a medium diet coke is no less stressful. She repeats it back to me three times and when I reach the window she again asks me what my order was. I want to ask if she is stupid as well as deaf but feel this would be unfair so I pay her and proceed to the pick up window. A block later when I discover that my diet coke is in fact, Dr. Pepper, I drive a second block all the while telling myself to let it go, then take a sharp turn on two wheels and reverse direction. A teenager with an unpleasant smirk asks if she can help me and I slam the offending drink on the counter and tell her that I ordered diet coke and got Dr. Pepper.
Amazingly, she puts one hand on either scrawny hip and says something that sounds like Ya sure? In the nick of time, a supervisor appears, gives her a furious glare and begins apologizing at length while scurrying to replace my drink. I mourn for the loss of smartness, for manners, for whatever it takes to make an effort. I mourn that I didn't throw that Dr. Pepper when I had the chance.

Back at the office, I resume my insurance claim reconciliation. Thank you for calling (insert name of any health insurance company), a voice with a distinctive Indian lilt sing songs to me, My name is Irving, how may I assist you?

Irving? Really? In New Delhi?

I give up. Witches and armed roosters are the least of my problems.