Unlike now, it appeared a few hours ago I could be headed for The Lake later, and on the prowl for something fast to be eaten just before or after, so I dropped in on my self-checkout market to see what was in their oft-mobbed "used"---I mean marked down section. Not a lot; come back during the time I'd be on the road and there would be all kinds of entrees and layers of shoppers.

However, here was a row of their 59-ounce green teas down from $3.29 to $1.99.

I guaranteed less taste by scooping up two. Come on, nothing tastes as good as when one's mouth feels like the inside of an old Buick manifold and the last of the ice tea consists of a solitary layer of molecules square dancing.

At the checkout station with a few more items I scanned a tea bottle on its new magic label and there was no response. Such "fails" always engage my lateral neck muscles: whither this, when the store wants its money? After a few more shakes (who needs hand weights?) I tried the hand scanner and its usually steady bar beam was scattered like the powdery red lights on outside billboards that settle into words---just like the board on one of "those" places adjacent to where I had just been rolling a passenger train by up the block.

I paused to think maybe I'd have to manually enter a numeric code a centipede with a gel-tip in each claw would take all day to copy when I spied a bit of condensation on the glass of the fixed scanner. I did a finger-dispersal and right up came my item and discount price!

Genetic information can be taken from drinking glasses if I've heard correctly. I'll research it over an ice green tea.