Pharmacy

I was talking with a representative of the devil the other today. We were in line at the pharmacy. She had on a nice gray business suit, and her hair was done up in a ponytail. (One of the problems with cell phones is that when women are driving and stop at traffic lights they’re busy holding their cell phone in place rather than adjusting their ponytail, so that we male drivers behind don’t have the spectacle of a woman adjusting her ponytail to entertain us in traffic.) This woman seemed like a nice person, even though she was a pharmaceutical rep. We read some over-the-counter labels together; she was advising me on the best way to deal with a cold. She also complained about her company’s policy that required her to talk with pharmacists who were prevented by their company’s policy from talking with her. It was clear that Kafka had been at work again. I wanted to compliment her on her ponytail, but there’s a certain decorum you have to maintain in the pharmacy. And she was just trying to make a living, my better self kept telling me.

 

[My wonderful-photographer friend Kitty (not her name) said to me after looking at this photo: “Roger (not my name), your incompetence is not confined to the camera itself. I’m pleased to know that it extends to the software designed to enhance the photos. You’ve managed to use this software in a way that makes your pictures even worse than they naturally are.” Kitty is right, of course. I started just trying to erase the license plate on the car and soon things got out-of-hand. And as I tried to repair my mistakes, things went downhill rapidly until I had what you see above. If I spent more time thinking about photography rather than ponytails, I’d take better pictures. But then I sometimes think there might be an upside to despair.]

 

Done