July 24, 2024–Running errands.
They are tasks we all dread but can’t avoid, and if we didn’t have them to do, we would miss doing them.
“Running errands” is code for everything from dropping off a check so they don’t cut off the power, to the deadbeat dad going out for a pack of Marlboros and never coming back.
Like many devoted practitioners of voluntary solitude, I like to gang up my errands so I only need venture out once every few days. My list is probably similar to yours:
- bank
- library
- insurance office
- post office
- utility company
- feed store
- gas station
- liquor store
- courthouse
And all errands, like all adult parent couple dates, end at the grocery store.
After much practice, you work in efficiencies. I have my errand route mapped out in a rough circle. Ideally, I plan it so, like UPS, I only make right-hand turns and never need to back up.
Veteran errand-runners learn certain smooth moves. The most satisfying is the “park once/do three things” strategy.
In Fredericksburg, for example, it usually involves finding a shady spot near the gazebo, returning books to the library, depositing checks at the bank, and renewing license tags at the courthouse, all within one easy block.
Kerrville is more spread out, but you can still pull off the county office/library/bank hat trick from the downtown parking ramp.
In almost any town, strip malls are prime locations to scratch off the trifecta of the feed store/dollar store/liquor store.
As much as I dread running errands, I also realize they serve a valuable function. First, they force us out of the house and out of sweats and crocs.
I once lamented to my bank teller how inconvenient it was to drive into town just to deposit checks every week. She downloaded a phone app that let you make deposits remotely. I tried it for a couple of weeks, and found I hated it. Bless me for saying this, but I missed the interaction with a real person at the bank. The phone app didn’t tell you how many inches of rain you got or hand out a lollipop.
Same with grocery shopping. During covid, everyone at least tried online ordering. I discovered that I am one of those rare people who actually enjoys pushing a cart down the cereal aisle. It brings out the hunter-gatherer in me. I also find I conduct a lot of client relations in the produce department.
Running errands also enhances the chances of serendipity. How else can you stumble across past-expiration mushroom slices marked down half price? Or buy homemade cupcakes at a 4-H fundraiser bake sale?
Growing up in small-town America, running errands was a major excuse for social interaction. My best friend’s dad would take us downtown on Thursday evenings when the stores would stay open late, and send us 10-year-old boys into the local tavern to buy his chewing tobacco. Then we’d all sit in the car for an hour watching people walk by. We didn’t need social media to comment on their outfits or gossip about their social lives.
“Running errands” is also handy code for “I’m going to go have a beer with boys” or “I really don’t want to clean the gutters today” or “I have nothing left to talk about.”
Gotta go. I need to run an errand.