Can't They Leave Well Enough Alone?

I just realized yesterday that I don't like change. I used to think I liked new things and enjoyed the latest in cutting edge stuff, but maybe I don't.

I went to my bank's ATM and everything was different. Geez. I'm just trying to get money for a Dove bar. Now the instructions are new, the choices I have to make are different, even the questions they ask disorient me. Nothing I did to get money was the same.  "What was wrong with the old way?"  I found myself asking no one in particular.

Twice now I've been back to the new improved ATM. I'm still startled when confronted with the faster, easier, more colorful and convenient way of getting my money.  I'm a creature of habit who relies on the regular order of things. Things being the SAME. The reason is so I can put myself on auto pilot and not have to think. When I drive downtown I'm in a zone.  In fact I've been all the way into the city sometimes before realizing I was only going to a friend's house.

I hate having to think about what I'm doing. And this new ATM thing hurts my brain. I can't just mindlessly drive up and get money out of my dwindling account. I have to think what I'm doing and pay attention. Is there anything more annoying?

There are other things that I count on to stay the same, but they are changing now too. 

My toothpaste. Before I just used to get a tube of Crest. I weathered the tartar control, breath control, birth control and other variations.  But now it doesn't even come in a tube anymore. How is that possible?  Now you can choose between four or five hundred [bet you think I'm exaggerating] different  flavors in this new upside down dispenser do-dad. Wintergreen. Spearmint. Peppermint. Chocolate Mint. Mint Julep. Lime, Cinnamon, Orange, Toasted Almond, Aluminum, Raccoon. With more whitening, even more whitening than that, and so much whitening you'll glow in the dark. Ack.

Don't do this to me. I don't even recognize my neighborhood anymore. All the houses as I knew them are gone. Instead there are huge replacements with turrets lining my entire street now. I feel like a two car garage floating in a sea of McMansions. And my favorite square back Jeep style is history. Not my own Jeep. of course, which I will drive until I'm asked to stay off the roads. The new version of the square back looks like something on steroids, thick with chrome and gansta rap colors. 

Dogs are changing too. Labs and goldens are now poodledoodles, labratrievers, and dingleberries, strange cross breeds of two perfectly good animals created on a whim so someone can make big bucks selling you something new and different to walk on a leash and pick up poop after. Are there any collies left?

There are some happy moments from time to time. Some trips down memory lane that give me hope. They brought back Clove and Blackjack gum for awhile. I can still buy a new Lava Lamp.

A local dairy here sells its milk in glass bottles. And they'll deliver it to your back door, too. Or course it costs more, but I swear it tastes better than milk out of a carton, even though it's easier to drink milk out of the carton when you're standing in front of the fridge.

More good news -- I can purchase an old fashioned Dairy Queen sundae  -- that tasty palm oil blend of vanilla flavored whipped styrofoam with extra chocolate sauce. Is there nothing better after a five course meal at Charlie Trotter's?  I think not.

Over time I've learned to adjust. In the seventies I had to learn to pump gas and check my own oil. But I was more than a little grateful for Pampers. In the eighties I reluctantly embraced the world of waxing. If only to wear the new high cut bathing suits. In the nineties I finally accepted the microwave, the computer and the thong. And for the past six years I've happily endured instant messages from strange men who can't spell. Just so I can have a social life.

But sometimes it just feels like change happens only for the purpose of making a change. Not for any reason that makes sense to me.