The Expiration Date - Things That Stick (Or Go Bump in the Night)
June 1st, 2009 by Robyn Justo

I might sound like Andy Rooney, Maxine, or just an aging cantankerousaurus, but why do things stick when they aren’t supposed to and don’t when they should? It’s kind of like relationships.
Maybe it’s because I’m getting older, but when things are in my hands, they tend to fall out. And sometimes I stand there, witnessing the mess to come, as I look down at these rebellious little paws of mine, unable to make my fingers respond in time.
Sometimes it’s the milk carton, or my keys, something breakable, or just about anything. Maybe there’s a Poltergeist that follows me around (that’s what I get for performing séances in my teenage years).
I’m sure that I am not alone, but I struggle with the plastic bags in the produce section at Safeway. I think we all do and I don’t know if anyone else does this, but I always look around to see if anyone is watching as I turn the bag upside down to make sure that I have the right end, praying to the polyethylene Gods, rubbing fruit-lessly to get the edge to unstick so that I can put my produce inside the bag. Every time this happens I’m sure that I can hear the hysterical laughter of the ghost of Alan Funt hovering above me. SMILE!
Call me OCD, but I will pull and peel until my fingers cramp. I refuse to play a new CD until every bit of that sticky covering is completely gone. (I’m older, ok? And I still buy CDs, iPod people.)
I love cosmetics and admittedly have way too many of them. I guess I’m looking for the elusive perfect color, you know, like the elusive perfect guy or butterfly of love?
So maybe it’s my penance, but when I buy a new tube of lipstick or an eyeliner that has those perforated lines in the plastic packaging, I cringe because they never tear the way that they’re supposed to. They are certainly not good for my mood and really bad for the environment. Biodegradable does not mean “after a seagull swallows it, chokes on it, and throws it up.”
And is it me or are they now making toothbrushes that don’t stand up on the counter and roll over into your sink, sticking to everything? Make it easy on us and make the damn bottom flat. We don’t all have designer toothbrush holders.
The clasps on my jewelry stick. Either that or my paws don’t work anymore. I’ll look in the mirror (which makes it worse because everything is backwards) and squeeze the clasp hard until it finally opens, frantically grabbing the O-ring on the opposite side before the clasp snaps shut (I never get this the first or second time, but I’ve increased my word power by inventing my own quasi-Italian profanity).
Now I understand why they’re now making jewelry with elastic. Older people like elastic (especially in pants so we can breathe when our stomachs stick out).
Oh, and the best one of all? Packing peanuts that stick to the sides of garbage cans, rugs, hair, and (almost) everything else. What is it with this annoyingly co-dependent Styrofoam that just won’t let go? When I try to grab the last one, it jumps away like some sort of psychic electrostatic bean on a mission that sticks to everything but my little clutching hand.
I was shopping the other day at my favorite department store (for another tube of lipstick). It’s a ritual for me. The higher-end stores put their tubes in boxes, so you don’t have to mess with the plastic. And they have the cleanest bathroom in the mall. It’s also the most psychic.
I took a deep breath as I entered the stall (because you all know how much I hate that experience). I just walked in and I wasn’t anywhere near the seat or the handle or the little senso button on the toilet, but it knew I was there and flushed all by itself, making me jump backwards, drop my purse, and bang into the door.
Ok, Alan, I know you’re in here!
Copyright 2009 Robyn Justo
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Robyn Justo is a freelance writer who is living, breathing, and learning the new rules of dating over 40. Experienced, but by no means an expert, she shares the frustrations, triumphs, and general hysteria of single life on the Monterey Peninsula. “The Expiration Date” addresses the lighter side of dating later in life. The names have been changed to protect the innocent (and the guilty). Robyn also occasionally hosts local social events for those brave-hearted single folks who actually have the courage to come out of the house.
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