When I went to the grocery store this morning there was enough of a fall nip in the air that I put on a light jacket. I was glad I did. Stepping though the doors to the grocery was like setting foot on the Antarctic ice shelf. All that was lacking was snow and penguins. They could have kept the frozen food out on the shelves beside the cereal. They should have had smoke pots in the produce section. My hands turned blue as I checked the apples and tangerines for frost damage.

The cold was bad enough. Worse, the chattering of my teeth was drowned out by Muzak booming through the aisles at rock concert decibel level. The tins of fruit were shaking. The pigs' feet were dancing in their jars. Well, it sounded that loud to me since I'd just rolled out of bed and was only half-awake.

And what goddawful music! Was it crappy seventies pop-rock or the modern "country" music that sounds like crappy seventies pop-rock? One song in particular went on forever. Some woman with a lousy voice whining some inane lyric over and over and over. Very, very loudly. It's no wonder I brought home the trash bags with the tie fasteners rather than the tie handles I wanted. How are you supposed to think?

Most of the music must have been modern. It had that whining quality. They used to sing the blues, now they sing petulance.

But you'll never believe it. As I headed for the checkout, shivering, my head starting to ache, having forgotten half my order, what comes on but the Kinks. Well Respected Man!

I can't imagine how that song made it into that music selection. At least I left the store on a good note.