I make it my business to stay out of trouble, particularly that of a legal nature (which isn’t something everyone in my family can say, though that’s not something that I have any intention of going into here).
This tendency to avoid creating what I deem as unnecessary difficulty extends to the rest of my life. For instance, I exercise regularly, drink good beer–none of that “Old Milwaukee” crap, please–in moderation, and keeping a positive, reality-based attitude (by “reality-based” I mean there are few things bother me more than people who pretend that everything is wonderful in the world and there’s seemingly never anything to complain about).
Truth be told, there’s plenty to complain about; which one is hopefully very selective about taking advantage of.
This is why, when I shop at my local CVS and the automated checkout asked me for my ID, I have to wonder what’s going on. After all, I am not living an life that’s an outtake from “Breaking Bad” and since I have no intention of using the cough medicine I just purchased to make crystal meth, just let me purchase what I need, so I can leave without an electronic nanny drawing attention to what I just brought, as if I were in some sort of movie, in which purchases of things like condoms, tampons or hemorrhoid cream are always broadcast throughout the entire store.