The Genius Hour

 

D'you like the title of this piece?

I do.   Not so much as a title, but as a signpost of a phenomena - see 'context'.

Here's how I came to hear the phrase, its context and perhaps some examples, or better yet a plan for recording some Genius pronouncements.

 

Source: G. Kechnie during a golf round recently. G is turns out is a pot head. For which there is some external evidence in his appearance. 

Context: The Genius Hour was a reference to that period of time, familiar to all true pot heads, that the first hour after smoking up may well lead to insights / pronouncements / realizations - which at first glance are pure genius.

Its sort of a self-referential slogan - in that it is obviously a silly, exaggerated notion, that makes fun of pot heads for thinking that these first hour thoughts are somehow generally 'genius' quality. Could this be what is meant by 'irony' ?

Anywayyyys, the current genius idea I have is to try and record some of these genius notions, and the circumstances whence they arose, sort of to prove / disprove the hypothesis, and see where that leads.

I'm curious - Is there any connection between this Genius Hour stuff, and the rather well worn notion of Happy Hour at drinking places?

Paper Towels, & Costco & Aging

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 I buy paper towels at Costco. Their in-house brand Kirkwood is a premium product from my experience, and it is only available at their stores.
Pricing is also a pull for me. When I last did the math, some years back, I was impressed at how modest the price was per unit, compared to the more typical grocery store offerings.
But there's a rub. A rub common for Costco shoppers, and that's the minimum quantity of the SKU - you are buying 24 ! large rolls of paper towels at a crack. 

I must say 24 large rolls at a time is a bit inconvenient. That's gotta be a full year's supply for my purposes, if not longer.That means I'm storing / inventorying an unwieldy volume for a long time, which has no appeal.
Still, I decide it is the way to go, and so I do.

Of course, I don't do this often, as in once a year at most. I can find a space for the storage that's not too impractical, and I feel good about a quality product at a sensible price.

A couple of weeks back I had a trip to my local Costco outlet. Granola, coffee pods (McD), and paper towels were on my mind. I did the deed. Another check off on my daily list - smiley here.

The smiley lasted less than an hour. By then I was back at home, unpacking and putting away.
And what should I discover back at the home front ? Dang, if it wasn't a full, unopened bundle of 24 Costco paper towels, sitting high in the alcove shelving.

Two questions immediately came to mind. First, how could I have messed this up, and forgotten that some short time previous I had already made the big purchase? Second, where was I going to store this oversized pack of paper products?

I had no good answer for the double buy. Allz I could think was that this was a data point in an unfolding picture - and not a felicitous data point. This goof would not have happened in an earlier incarnation. I wouldn't have made this goof 5 years ago, and maybe not even last year. But these days, I'm getting irritatingly similar data points all to frequently.

My memory function seems to be slipping, is one of the few conclusions that presents itself. And on that score, my gut says that there are no cures to the memory curse. Sure I can fiddle with the periphery, with check lists and diary entries, but the real issues remain. Oh well, we all have to adapt to our changing circumstances.

And on to the second question - where would I store this surplus bundle?
Impetuously I settled on an unorthodox approach. I was going to keep the bundle in my car - I don't have much use for the back seat, and the bundle was no more voluminous than a passenger.
And then in a flash, I conceived of another layer for the scheme. I would look to give away rolls of paper towels to friends, relatives and strangers - as the occasions arose while driving around. 

And that dear readers, is what I am doing.
So, if I should arrive at your place by car one of these days, and I enter carrying a roll of paper towels, consider this a genuine gift from me to you. Don't give me grief. Please don't draw attention to my deteriorating memory. Rather, go with the flow, and count your blessings that the shoe is not on the other foot.