White Truffle Salt and Batteries

Batteries.  It's one of the reasons I absolutely despise moving.  Before you ask what batteries possibly have to do with the price of ice cream in Bulgaria, allow me to clarify.  Whenever we move we remove the batteries from our toys and other electronics so they don't break down inside the toy.  Of course, after we move, we are then forced to match up batteries to electronics again.  I'm sure the quick-witted amongst you have seen the obvious solution which is to pack away the batteries with their corresponding item.  Fabulous solution if you are moving from point a to point b and immediately unpacking your possessions.  Not so grand if you are not going to be occupying your new domicile in an expedient fashion nor unpacking all your worldly possessions in one fell swoop.  In fact, by the time we get around to unpacking everything, most of the batteries are now expired.  Which means getting new batteries for everything.

Batteries aren't like they were years ago.  There were a few standard sizes -- AAA, AA, C, D, 9 volt.  Now there is a plethora of different batteries.  Which is why batteries are like white truffle salt.  Bet you were wondering by now when I was getting back around to this.  Anyone who loves to cook can totally relate to this analogy.  Cooking used to be a fairly simple process.  You found food, you combined it together in an appetizing manner and then consumed said product.  With gourmet restaurants, cookbooks and cooking shows running rampant, exotic is no longer cooking Mom's Christmas ham.  Before you know it, you're trying to make a meatloaf which consists of 20 mysterious ingredients.  You are now out there hunting for white truffle salt at 11 o'clock at night just so you can make a meatloaf.  What happened to combining meat and bread and tossing some ketchup on top?

Same thing with the batteries.  Seems like everyone is going to these miniscule batteries that have their own unique numbers and sizes.  So hopping by the local Dollar General, picking up a pack of triple A's and loading up is no longer an option.  And of course, since the toys have now been in storage for seven months, I have a three-year-old boy wanting me to find batteries so he can play with his super powered construction digger (might have made that one up, but am I too far off?) which he "never got to play with in a really long time" (his words, not mine).  And it's not good enough to play with the truck minus the battery powered options.  Oh no.  We have to have the bells and whistles and the darling song concerning "that's what dump truck's all about".  Which means that here goes Mama to the store at 11 o'clock at night to track down a CR347.  Meatloaf anyone?