I passed a group doing community service near their “Correctional Services” van yesterday. Not exactly a chain gang, but they didn’t look all that thrilled to be picking garbage in bright orange vests. I’m sure there is some value in the task; after all, picking up toys and clothing is considered a Very. Terrible. Task. in our house. Coupled with tacky fashion options… yes, this would be punishment indeed.
I realize I spend a lot of my blogging capital on moaning and b… complaining. I apologize, but you’ll have to give this one to me, because there is nothing, NOTHING that can compete with the sheer pain and frustration of the task that has sucked my day away.
I spent the afternoon trying to print out my cousin’s wedding invitations.
I was excited about it. I got it all set up. They look really great. All 10 of them. The ones that actually worked. Only, she wanted to invite more than just 10 people, it turns out. So… I have to figure out how to get the stupid printer with the stupid ink cartridge and the stupid paper tray to do WHAT IT IS SUPPOSED TO DO!
I am convinced that setting delinquents up with a line up of clunky old desktops, past-their-prime ink jet printers and a list of crucial printing tasks would be a far more powerful deterrent than any amount of neighbourhood clean-up. Is there anything more frustrating? Anything?
When everything works tickety boo, technology is a gift. The other 93% of the time, it is the bane of my existence.
This is the part where I usually add some pithy, transcendent moral about life or God or the beauty of the universe. Not today. We have friends coming over soon and I am going to eat muffins and pretend that none of this ever happened. Tomorrow is a new day. And Staples is only a short drive away.
So here’s me, formulating plan B. Yellow post-it notes, red crayon and the words: “Wedding. Be there.” I think it has a certain charm.
What other creative punishments is the modern correctional system overlooking?