Last week I was at the supermarket checkout, the cashier gave me that apologetic half-smile we’ve all come to recognize. “Paper only now,” she said, already reaching for the flimsy bags that tear if you look at them wrong. I ended up double-bagging everything and still prayed the handles would survive the walk to the car. Ten bucks in bags later, I drove home wondering—yet again—why something as basic as buying food has to feel like a minor defeat.
That moment crystallized something I’ve felt for years: California isn’t just expensive or crowded. It’s exhausting. Not because of earthquakes or traffic alone, but because the state has layered thousands of tiny, pointless rules on top of everyday life until even the smallest tasks feel like pushing boulders uphill.
The Death of Common Sense, One Regulation at a Time
Most people know the big statistics—highest taxes, worst housing affordability, biggest homeless crisis. Those are real and crushing. But the part that actually wears you down day to day? It’s the petty stuff. The rules nobody asked for that solve almost nothing yet complicate everything.
The Plastic Bag Saga That Never Ends
Remember 2014? Lawmakers proudly banned the thin plastic bags at checkout “to save the planet.” Stores switched to thicker “reusable” plastic bags—and started charging ten cents each. The new bags used more plastic per bag than the old ones did, but hey, feelings were saved.
Fast forward to 2025-2026. Those thicker bags are now illegal too. Only paper (or you bring your own). Except the paper bags fall apart, can’t be reused for trash or cat litter, and still cost money. So we went from free, convenient, multi-purpose bags to expensive, fragile, single-use ones. Progress!
I’m not denying plastic in the ocean is bad. But does anyone honestly believe this musical-chairs approach to bag policy has moved the needle? Meanwhile, every grocery run now involves mental math: how many paper bags will survive, how much will this add to the bill, and do I have enough old Amazon boxes in the trunk to avoid the charge altogether?
The Gasoline Can Designed by Committee
Picture this: Saturday morning, you want to mow the lawn or till the garden. You grab your red plastic gas can—except California decided normal spout wasn’t safe enough. Now every can sold in state has a “spill-proof” nozzle that requires a PhD to operate.
You press, twist, hold a spring-loaded collar, and pray. Half the time gasoline still glugs all over your shoes. Most people I know (myself included) gave up and removed the entire nozzle assembly the first week. Yes, that probably violates some code, but so does setting your pants on fire trying to follow the “approved” method.
The irony? These nozzles were mandated to prevent spills that might contaminate groundwater. Yet because they’re so awful, people spill more than ever—or deliberately defeat the mechanism, which rather defeats the purpose.
Replacing a Window Should Not Require Architecture Degree
Here’s a fun weekend project: swap out an old, drafty window for a new energy-efficient one. Same size, same location, no structural changes. In most states you buy the window, pop the old one out, install the new one, done by lunch.
In California You need a permit. And plans. And Title 24 energy calculations. And possibly lead-paint paperwork if your house predates 1978. The county wants detailed drawings, manufacturer spec sheets, U-factor ratings, and proof your contractor is licensed. The fee plus plan-check time often costs more than the window itself.
- Submit application online
- Wait for plan review (days to weeks)
- Make corrections they request
- Pay permit fee
- Schedule inspection after install
- Pray the inspector is having a good day
All for a like-for-like replacement. I’ve talked to contractors who say the paperwork time now exceeds the actual installation time on most small jobs. No wonder cash-under-the-table work is booming—people aren’t trying to cheat; they just want their house to function without taking out a second mortgage in fees.
Your Swimming Pool Is Now a Maximum-Security Prison
Have a pool? Better hope your fence meets current code, because California treats backyard pools like nuclear facilities.
The gate must be self-closing and self-latching with the latch at least 54 inches high. The fence itself has to be minimum 60 inches (five feet). No climbable horizontal bars. No plants or furniture within five feet that a child could use as a step stool. New pools require an approved power safety cover—those vinyl tarps that have drowned more than one family pet when they crawled underneath and couldn’t get out.
I watched a grown man carry his soaked, lifeless golden retriever into an emergency vet because of one of those “safety” covers. Tell me again how safe they are.
Your Pizza Box Can Earn You a $5,000 Fine
Since 2022, California households must separate “organics”—food scraps, pizza boxes, yard waste—into the green bin. Put a greasy pizza box in the gray trash bin by mistake? Technically you can be fined up to $5,000 if the waste hauler reports repeat offenders.
Never mind that modern landfills already capture most methane, or that food waste is a tiny fraction of emissions compared to, say, wildfires or freight transport. Never mind that hauling wet food scraps in summer heat creates its own lovely neighborhood aroma. The law is the law, comrade.
I now keep a separate mini-bin in my kitchen for eggshells and coffee grounds. It smells fantastic. My wife loves it. Ten out of ten, highly recommend the regulatory lifestyle.
The Real Cost Isn’t the Fine—It’s the Time and Dignity
Nobody is getting a $5,000 pizza-box ticket. The real damage is subtler. Every new rule trains you to expect friction in ordinary life. You stop planning home projects because the permitting hassle isn’t worth it. You buy cheaper tools because the “California compliant” version costs double. You grit your teeth and pay the bag fees because fighting city hall over ten cents is deranged.
Multiply that by ten thousand petty regulations and you get a population that’s quietly, permanently angry. Not riot-in-the-streets angry—just tired, cynical, checked-out angry. The kind that packs a U-Haul some Tuesday night and never looks back.
And that’s the saddest part. A lot of us love California—the weather, the landscape, the culture when it’s allowed to breathe. But the state government seems determined to regulate that love right out of us, one infuriating little rule at a time.
Maybe the next “save the planet” crusade could start with saving some common sense instead.
