I was at the store the other day. In front of me was a little girl in the cart. As her mother unloaded the groceries, the little girl grabbed candy bars from the rack. She must have liked bright colors because Reese Cups and Juicy Fruit were her sweets of choice. The harried mother repeatedly admonished the tyke and replaced the candy.
Stores like to put products near the check-out line because they can catch us on impulse purchases. As you stand there fuming about the old lady and her coupons you ponder buying that laser pointer keychain. As she writes her check with an agonizing slow scrawl you wonder if that roll of packaging twine will be strong enough to choke the life out of her. As the welfare queen gets out her WIC vouchers and food stamp debit card you weigh the option of Payday or $100,000 Grand candy bars. Do you need the travel pack of tissues or the disposable lighter? Does the cover shot of anorexic celebrities warrant the purchase of People? Are we out of glue, do I need a disposable lighter emblazoned with the #20 of Tony Stewart? Breath mints, jerky, and sodas in a cashier-side cooler beckon me.
There, in a nutshell, you have the benefit of adulthood staring you in the face. You can have that Milky Way. You can buy the miniature can of WD-40. You are free to choose. You make the decisions of life. If you want to drop your hard-earned cash on the CD cleaner you can. It is good to be me, it is good to be an adult...at least by chronological measurement.
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