Wait! Where are you going? Don’t leave me here alone with my door story. Haven’t you heard? Doors are actually very funny and exciting to read about! You can tell, because I put an exclamation point at the end of the sentence. Stay with me . . . please?
The Horrifying Note
It was going to be a delicious, do-nothing Sunday. After a productive morning, I had the whole afternoon ahead of me to doze, laze, lounge, loll, droop, drag, snooze, and/or slump.
My plans were ruined, however, when I got home from the gym to find a note from Dave:
Honey, Let’s go to Lowe’s and buy a new door!
Oh, gross me out. Is there a more boring place on earth than Lowe’s? Is there a more boring mission than buying a new door? Unlike the above example, the puny exclamation point at the end of Dave’s sentence was not going to get me excited about a damn door.
When Dave got home, he was fakely upbeat. “You want to be involved in the decision, don’t you?”
“Because there are different styles, options, colors . . .”
“And I thought you’d want to help pick it out.”
“. . .”
In an ill-advised effort to cheer me up, he promised that we could also shop for a new mailbox.
The Most Boring Place on Earth
I s’pose there are people who enjoy visiting home improvement stores like Lowe’s. Those people are idiots. It’s a huge, awful place that smells like metal and sawdust and glue and stupidity, with aisles and aisles of stuff, NONE of it the least bit interesting. Immersible Sump Pump, 2-Speed Portable Thickness Planer, Lithium Iron Driver Drill. Apart from the giant gumball machines, there doesn’t appear to be any candy, and even the magazines at the check-out aisles are dull: “Workbench Magazine,” “Wood,” “Tools,” “Boring-Ass Crap No One Cares About”. . . I started to cry a little.
We finally found the door aisle, only to discover that Dave had left his notes with our door measurements in the car.
“Do you want to go get it or should I?”
When does a sentence phrased this way ever NOT mean “You go get it”? I agreed, if only to break up the monotony of the visit. I trudged back to the car, taking my time. The only thing I wanted to see when I got back to the door aisle was Dave handing over his credit card to a helpful salesman.
No Such Luck
Dave was right where I left him. Alone.
Lowe’s is the type of store that employs one salesperson per square acre, so the guy for our designated area was hopelessly tied up. We waited, looking at doors. Oh, it’s not like there weren’t options to consider: full screen or part screen. White or black. Brass or nickel. Yeah, that kept us occupied for about 2 minutes.
Then we noticed other couples circling ominously around the perimeter of the sales clerk and his customers. We zoomed in to claim our rightful position as next in line. I shot these other couples my hardest of looks: You think you’re next, fools?
Adding Injury to Insult
When we finally got our salesguy, Dave asked pertinent and probing questions. I waited sullenly to chime in with my sole contribution:
Having delivered my only line, I went back to sulking. When I grudgingly moved to allow an old man in a walker to get past me, Dave stepped back and slammed his foot down on my toe. The same toe I had dropped a soup can on a few days before. He was appropriately contrite, but there was no way I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it.
No End in Sight
Finally, we moved from the door aisle to the Desk of Transaction. But instead of exchanging a credit card number for a door, we were subjected to questions, paperwork, more waiting, and unbearable dullness. My toe hurts! Why aren’t there chairs? Where are the TV screens? Why are there are so many bald men? Who let that dog in? Why, God, why?
At last! We were done. I breathed in the air of freedom as if it was oxygen, which, in fact, it was. After such an ordeal, I felt like I deserved ice cream or a trip to the toy store. I thought Dave was on the same wavelength, but, sadly, no.
Let’s go to Office Max!
If you want to buy a door:
- But why would you? Just move to a house with a new door.
- OK, if you must buy a door, at least try to do it online. (What? Doors.com doesn’t sell doors? RIP-OFF!)
- OK, if you have to go a boring door store, bring plenty of snacks, magazines, a chair, and dog treats.
The door’s always open at humor blogs!