David and I have recently joined the much younger, faster, and quicker thinking world of virtual reality. It's gotta be better than this one, right? Anything has to be better than the reality of the aches and pains that have crept up on us over the years. I swear, we both put on a symphony of moans and groans just getting out of bed.
Anyway, last weekend we moseyed on over to the county fairgrounds where a home and garden show was in progress. I don't know why we attend these things unless it's for all the free 'swag' given away at all the booths. This is their sneaky way of getting our information so they can pester us for the rest of the year trying to sell us stuff we didn't want in the first place.
David went to visit the booths where they had nifty displays set up on 'redoing' our bathroom. He remodeled my bathtub area a few years ago and has been talking ever since about how he wants his shower redone. He plans to make it bigger and more easily accessible for when we get really old (I heard that.)
The first booth we visited was 'manned' by a very perky, mature-type lady who was very enthusiastic about their products. I don't know how she could be so excited about plastic tub inserts, but she was. She very enthusiastically pointed out all the cool new features that her company could provide for a completely modern new bathtub.
Unfortunately, I had to break it to her gently that we were wanting a new shower stall. I can't stand to see a grown woman cry. After she recovered, we made a date for someone to come out and give us an estimate (definition: not even remotely close to the price we had in mind). A week later, a gentleman came, checked out what we had, asked what we wanted, and quoted us an amount equal to the gross national product of Liechtenstein.
We had also visited a competing booth that sent out another gentleman who must have mistakenly thought we were heirs to the British throne. He walked in, took a cursory glance at our bathroom, and quoted us a price equal to the GNP of Liechtenstein AND Monaco. Unless the Queen Mother decides she needs a couple of Americans to liven up the lineage, we may be holding off on the remodel for a while.
But back to the original point of this column: virtual reality.
While David discussed the finer points of shower remodels, I made the rounds of the booths gathering up freebies we'll never use and will end up cluttering up our already overstuffed junk drawer but who can resist free?
I signed up for several giveaways even though my inner self was shouting, "Don't do it! They will come after you and won't be happy until they've gotten you to buy everything they're peddling." But did I listen? Only partially. I passed up a couple of booths only because I got tired of writing my name, address, phone number, email address, the name of our firstborn, etc. One even had the nerve to ask me for my birthdate on their nosey card. That's a more closely guarded secret than the combination to the gold in Fort Knox.
One booth was giving away a whole-house air purifier (I wish), a 50" television (don't need), or an Oculus Quest 2 (don't know what that is but sounded interesting). They had set up a version of Plinko like you see on my favorite game show, so I grabbed a chip, dropped it, and watched it land on the Oculus. I filled out the standard booth form, scooped up the goody bag they were offering and didn't give it another thought.
The next day we got the call we'd won the Oculus and hurried on down to collect. I got home, unboxed it, and looked for instructions on how to work the darn thang. That's not completely true. The first thing I did was look it up on my favorite online seller to see what it sold for. BINGO!
The makers of all things electronic no longer feel the need to print actual instructions anymore. That might work for the younger generation, but we oldsters NEED to see it written down, step-by-step, dang it.
As soon as the headset finished charging, I put it on, turned it on, and found myself on the International Space Station watching two astronauts spacewalking and doing a few repairs. It's a good thing I'm not afraid of heights from the comfort of my recliner although I may need to install a seatbelt before I ride any more roller coasters with dinosaurs chasing me.