And I Didn't Get To Be The Penguin, EitherI was given cause to attend the local home improvement megalopolis today. I have complaints. My shrillest and most general complaint is that there are now no longer local corner hardware stores, but this is not really the fault of the local home improvement megalopolis; rather, this is a product of a certain way of doing things with which we have somehow become fond. I can't really fault the symptom for the disease.
Nor is it the particular fault of any given local home improvement megalopolis that I feel unease when in them. All of the folks at ours are reasonable and helpful and kind. The places make me nervous in part because I am usually only there if something has (or is about to) go very, very badly. They also make me nervous because particle board is heavy as hell.
Today, I was helping to return shelving units made of same, and heavy were they, too. There was some confusion to the color scheme of the finish, and so some had to go back. I helped bring them back. We were told we could exchange, so to the corner with the shelving we went. At this point we were faced with a deep, thin shelf of boxes, of which we wanted two, which were at the back. We discussed it. We made plans. We shifted this and hefted that, and clambered into the shelving to pull out the dusty ones we wanted.
I spent the evening in a home improvement center with seventy-two pound boxes playing Sokoban.
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