This is my annual tip of the hat to all those who have perplexed, frustrated and amused me and, as a result, inspired one of my columns this past year.
So, for 2012, I’d like to say thanks to:
The guy whose underwear I accidentally put on at the gym and then wore home because I was afraid to tell him the truth. Here’s to a clean start in 2013.
The people at Humana Health Insurance who wrote me a letter telling me they couldn’t cover my prostate exam because they have me listed as a woman. When I called, the customer service rep said they had a software problem. I told him that apparently I had a hardware problem. He didn’t laugh. I hope you did.
My massage therapist who twisted me into contortions, causing me to scream and groan in pain. I wish I could afford to go more often.
The editors of The Family Handyman magazine whose cover story was “How to Cure a Sick Ceiling Fan.” That made me wonder what the symptoms were. Periodic dizziness?
The staff at my doctor’s office who requested that I fill out a form listing the cause of death of my parents, my grandparents, and all my aunts and uncles. I had neither the patience nor the necessary information to complete this task, so I wrote down the same thing for everybody. The nurse called to tell me that in all her years in medicine, I was the first person who had 12 relatives run over by a bus.
The good people of Taiwan who, according to researchers, live seven years longer than average because they dine at home instead of going out and eating restaurant food. Of course, these people were eating Chinese food just about every night. They can call it “eating in,” but here in the Wolfsie household, we call that take-out.
My dentist who sends me a reminder card for my appointment, then an email, followed by a text message and finally a phone call. Then when I arrive, the hygienist always says: “Oh, do you have an appointment today?”
The people who manufacture build-it-yourself nightstands. On the box it says: “Easy Assembly.” There are no easy assemblies for me. That became clear back in 1956, when I led the Pledge of Allegiance in front of my entire elementary school and forgot the words.
My wife for forgiving my obsessive-compulsive packing method when we prepared for new carpeting in our home. I put things in boxes alphabetically. Cellphone, can opener, canceled checks: all together. That’s how we finally found the cat.
The people who designed my favorite item of the year: a lawn sign with a silhouette of a dog leaving a deposit. “NO” is printed in big gold letters on the squatting canine, a warning that your grass area is off limits to pets about to do their business. The word “no” means nothing to the dog, but the image of the pooch makes Rover think this is exactly the place he’s supposed to go.
Television personality Dick Wolfsie writes this weekly column for the Daily Journal.