Yes, I have stepped fully into the bath water of the suburbanization process. It was shockingly hot at first, and initial contact with my big toe stirred thoughts about skipping the bath entirely, but I've slowly gotten used to the warmth. Yes, I'm soaking comfortably in the water. Getting all pruney-like as I adapt to the new environment. So much so, that I even joined the Weis Prefered Shoppers Club this morning at 7:00am. Waking up to an empty coffee can sent me on a quick jaunt in to town for another can of ground beans. And though I enjoy shopping among my neighbors and exchanging smiles while waiting in line, I have developed a slightly discriminated-against feeling, not being a member of the club. And here's the funny part: In the past week since I've lived here, every time the cashier would ask me if I have my "club card", I'd lie. I'd always stammer with minimal confidence "Oh, I uh, forgot it..." Why do I feel the need to lie about this? Of all things; a club card. And it's not like I got away with it every time either. In fact I'd wager to say I had a 35% success rate with my deceitful grocery discount swindling scheme. Why? Because they usually follow this question up with a polite and shaming: "Oh, well I can just enter your phone number then...". This one blows me out of the water every time. As I's watch her lips form the words in slow-motion, I would feel the black stripe on my tongue widen & darken. I'm then left with no choice but to say something guilty like "Oh, don't bother, it's fine." N0, really lady, I'd rather pay FULL PRICE for these items as opposed to telling you seven simple digits; it's just not worth the hassle... Pitiful. And so this morning I took the road less traveled, the high road, the righteous path to the Customer Service Center at the front of the store and became a member of the elite. Now there's no need to lie. I'm preferred.