We’ve been a lot lately. In the airport. Traveling. Picking up visitors. Getting rid of those visitors. A lot = over twenty times in the last few months and likely another twenty coming up.

I have to tell you what I like the least. It would be the TSA. I’m not sure that I’m allowed to say that in this medium without getting in trouble, so let’s pretend “TSA” stands for “Tacky-Sweatered-Accountants”…

One place there was a lady in a chair. She was pregnant. That much was obvious. But she felt the need to sit far away from the line and announce to everyone that she couldn’t BEND to lean in and check your things. You had to almost lean over the divider and into the podium thing she wasn’t using. “There’s a BABY in there,” she would announce, in case you thought she was just eating beach balls while she ‘worked’.

One place there were many workers. Maybe 12. In one spot. STANDING. I’ve never seen anyone not work so hard. Wait, that’s not true. I saw one lady READING AN US WEEKLY.

After that, I considered applying. I would totally read Us Weekly for a living. It makes me think of what my Dad would say. “Don’t work too hard,” he’d tell her, and she just wouldn’t get it.

I mentioned to my husband what an insane amount of these people we’ve seen, and he provided me with more fodder for annoyance: the 9/11 bad guys had proper IDs. So what do they solve? And, 6 months after the creation of the “Tacky-Sweatered-Accountants”, they gave out lifetime achievement awards. At expensive parties. The more I think of this, I really need to apply. What am I complaining about? I must just be jealous.

Wait, where’s his sweater?…