Lily Goes To Home Depot ...

Happy Saturday, LilyOnTheLam.Com Readers!

This week has sort of sucked donkey butt.  Not for me personally, but it seems for many people around me.  

If you read my March 22, 2014 post ("Thoughts Have Power - Choose Gratitude"), you will know that I have been wearing a hamsa (evil eye protection) bracelet 24-7 for the past several weeks.  

When I went to Egypt with a group of 16 of the most fabulous people ever (seriously, where was the reality TV crew for THAT wild adventure?), I was the only one who did not get "gastro-intestinally compromised."  I was also the only one who was taking probiotics daily.  Coincidence?  I think not!  

I feel like my hamsa bracelet has been probiotics for my soul, because while other people are bloody with the ricochet bullet fire of misunderstandings I am still standing, unscathed.  (For now!)

However this situation is also like being the only person in the office who hasn't had the flu yet.  People coughing and sniffling all around me.  The air teeming with germs.  I feel like it's only a matter of time until I get taken down too!  When will I suddenly be incapacitated?

But then I think about the subject of my March 22 post - I already lived through the slings and arrows of a "drama creator's" misunderstanding.  Instead of being the last person to catch the disease, perhaps I was PATIENT ZERO!  The first to get crapped upon by a drama creator.  The rest of the chaos lately could all be aftershocks of the initial impact!

Regardless if I was first to bat or last to get zapped, I hope this all ends soon.  I have been meditating, working out (OK three times in like seven hundred months) and writing … oh and making sure my hamsa bracelet never leaves my wrist!  A girl needs all the psychic protection she can get!

After Sunday's 200 Food Truck Rally, I did what any red-blooded American would do with a belly full of deep fried food.  I went to Home Depot.

I had been putting off buying a drill.  Do I know how to use a drill?  No.  Will I probably lose a limb trying to use one?  Yes. Am I scared?  You betcha.

I am the least "handy" person in the world.  I am lucky I know how to hang a picture.  Anything beyond a hammer and a nail and I am lost.  I am the girl (woman, lady, aardvark ...) who always ends up slapping herself in the forehead with a retractable measuring tape.  And I have the welts to prove it!

I am convinced that when I change a light bulb, it will pop in my hand and I will never be able to play the piano again.  I haven't played the piano since I was eight, but that's beside the point.

When I go to Home Depot, I look like a trauma victim.  I don't know where I am.  I don't know how I got here.  I'm confused and scared and want to get out immediately.

I am generally a strong, confident woman.  Or at least I am really good at projecting that I am strong and confident.  (Fake it 'til you make it, people!)  But at Home Depot (or Lowe's or any kind of Home Improvement Store), I look like a lost lamb.  I don't know if confusion and vulnerability make me more attractive or if the contractors who shop at Home Depot are just madly horny, but I always get hit on when I am there.  And it's never ever by anyone I would like to hit on me.  So then I'm not only lost, confused and vulnerable, I am also nauseated.  

I usually end up running down the aisles, crying and screaming "I'M JUST LOOKING FOR AN ALLERGEN-REDUCING AIR FILTER, NOT A QUICKIE!"  

Thanks Contractors of America!

On this particular day, I was bloated from the Food Trucks and bright red from too much sun.  In other words, I was a lobster in jeans and a t-shirt.  

I wandered the aisles aimlessly whispering "Drill?  Drill?"  As if some magical Tinkerbell of a Home Depot Fairy would hear me, sprinkle pixie dust on me and suddenly I'd know how to use a drill.   

My friend Pookie St. Claire (a guy- who will probably kill me for this nickname) texted me reassuring messages.  He said if he were there (and not out of state) he would have done my chores (hanging up two curtain rods) for me.  He said something about making sure I used anchors and not to drill the holes too big.  Anchors?  Am I going boating?  I texted back something like:

"Waaaaaahahahahahahahahahahah!"

I walked past circular saws and let out a small cry.  Anything that could be used to dismember me should probably not be on my shopping list.

      

I walked by racks and racks of nail guns.  Really?  Do we need this many versions of nail guns for our shopping pleasure?  At one point, I got lost somewhere in bathroom cabinets.  I was pretty sure I would never make it home.  Someone please feed my cats!

I finally saw a woman in an orange apron.  Surely I could ask her for help and she wouldn't judge me.  I asked where the drills were.  She pointed behind me.

Evidently, I spent the last ten minutes walking around the drill section without realizing it or reading the sign that was right in front of me.  Should a person who can't recognize two aisles of drills really be purchasing a drill?

I said "Um so I need a blah and blah sixteenths drill bit - do those come with the drill or …?"  The Home Depot lady looked at me like I had said "So if my car has no tires, I can still drive it, right?"  She looked like she wanted to pad me in bubble wrap for my own safety.

Evidently, drills don't come with drill bits.  Who knew?  Pookie St. Claire texted me that he knew this information.  Pffft.

I put the drill and the blah blah sixteenths drill bit in my cart.  I wondered which aisle the bandages and prosthetics limbs were located.

Since I was at Home Depot, I decided to go whole hog.  I bought a small tub of joint compound and a "joint knife."  I pretended I knew what I was doing.  "Hi, I'm Lily.  I fix walls.  Hear me roar!"  But I was fairly certain no one in Home Depot was buying the charade.

I also picked up a big set of screwdrivers, since I seem to always lose them.  If you hear of an international gang of screwdriver thieves in Tampa Bay, please tell them I want my stuff back.

I paid for my merchandise at the checkout.  I lacked the emotional tenacity to do the self-checkout.  How could I be expected to operate a UPC code scanner gun after all this trauma?  And by the way, why are things that are so not exciting and so not fun, expensive?  I'd rather spend that money on new clothes or a sassy trip!

After I left the store, I remembered that one of my female friends had worked in a hardware store in her youth and was in my eyes, a master craftsman.  How did I not remember this before?  I blame the deep-fried food coma!  I could have had help on this drill shopping journey, instead of being emotionally ravaged by the aisles and aisles of scary products!  Hindsight is 20/20, my friends!

The new drill sat in its box, untouched, for four days.  On the fifth day, I thought I should at least plug in the battery pack to charge.  I looked at the instructions, which might as well have been in hieroglyphics.  There was a warning label to always wear protective eye wear when using the drill.  Great, not only was I going to lose a limb but an eye too.  I'll be a peg leg pirate with an eye patch and no curtain rods.

If you don't hear from me for awhile, it's because I am out looking for a parrot to make my pirate look complete!

Hope you're having a great weekend!