Did you know that if you spend $25 on tiny packages of hardware at Home Depot for more than three days in a row, they offer to teach you their secret handshake and make you a member of a special club for people with way too much time on their hands? You didn’t know that? Fair enough. It’s not actually true, but my word, it feels like it should be. I am about one trip away from inviting half of the Home Depot staff to a housewarming party.
We have a full toolbox and two bins of varying sizes containing, I thought, everything we could need to hang things, patch things, shim things, and other various verbs that apply to getting things settled, and yet it’s not enough. Worse, we make extensive lists as we set things up and discover a missing bolt or a squashed hook, carefully making note of everything we could need, but once we get home and put them into place, we discover that something isn’t quite working, and we have to start yet another list.
Fortunately, our local Home Depot is in the middle of inventory. Apparently this means that they flood the store with employees from other stores. As I’ve been wandering around looking for s-hooks and #10-24 machine screws, I haven’t been able to walk past two aisles without someone greeting me and asking what I’m looking for. At first I thought the store was a bit overstaffed, as I have always had to cross half the store before finding an employee in the past, until one of the women whose help I accepted led me up an down three aisles before we found what I was looking for—a chase which she apologized for by explaining that she was only at this store for inventory.
The aprons are willing, but their knowledge is weak.
I don’t want to jinx it, but I do finally think that we’ve got things settled within one more trip to Home Depot. All that’s left is to paint one small section of wall and rig up a rack for my pots and pans, so if that turns into another three trips to the store, I may have to find a hat to eat.
Why do people eat hats when their confidence is misplaced, by the way? Can anyone explain the origins of that to me? Why not shoelaces or cravats?
But that’s beside the point. The point is that I’m developing Stockholm syndrome for the color orange, and I can’t wait to once again think of Home Depot as a place that I don’t typically need to visit more than a handful of times in a year. We’re almost there.