Recently, I was forced into the noisy and congested world typical of American life. Yep. I had to go shopping.
It all started the moment I tried to squirt a little bit more of the most basic of all oil paints, Titanium White, onto my palette. With a PFFTHHPPPPP the remaining paint plopped out. Reaching for my backup tube, I found. . . nothing. Yep. That tube of Titanium White stuck in the back of the rack? It wasn’t white. It was Ultramarine Blue.
What? Impossible! Agghh! Okay, don’t panic. Just get some delivered.
Normally I can accomplish this task with a few clicks and, violá, the deed is done. Not this time.
Having pulled out my handy, lightweight laptop computer, I searched for a site that would deliver some paint within a few days. (Another experience of the typical American life.) However, with a click-click here and a click-click there, I discovered that it would take, drum roll – please, two weeks for the paint to arrive.
Oh, phooey, ptooey. I have to go to the store.
So, off I went to one of those big box stores that sell home goods, craft items, and art supplies. I live at least an hour away from any major city. Yet, I only had to travel 15 miles to buy my oil paint. (Another one of those pretty awesome miracles of the ordinary American life.)
As I rolled into the store, my eye noticed a sign for sale, “Be Original, Not Ordinary.” Huh? What’s wrong with ordinary?