Oh, how far we've come...

It has finally occurred to Husby and I that we are to be parents again in rather short order. (I say six weeks from now, most likely. Anyone care to make a wager?) We have decided to re-decorate the room donated to the dog and make it into a baby-friendly nursery. The feelings of the displaced dog have been noted and disregarded. Sorry, Murph.

Part of the redecorating process has included the removal of the previous owner's curious choice in carpet, a rust colored eyesore with yellow spots. The removal of this carpet, courageously undertaken by Husby alone, has left us with a bit of repair work to do on the baseboard trim.

For this, Husby needed some different nails than we have in our collection. Having been stuck in the house for an eternity, I volunteered quite happily to go to Home Depot all by myself and pick up the nails. (There is also a craft store next to Home Depot that I wanted to go into all by myself.)

For the better part of an hour, I wandered up and down each aisle in Home Depot. I looked at tiles, wood floors, sinks, toilets, light fixtures, power tools, lumber and cabinetry. I walked past a display of bar stools and had a funny mental image of me sitting on the bar stools and waiting patiently.

"Uh, can I ...help you?" Imagine how uncomfortable the employee would be, asking what should be a pretty routine question.

"Yes, I'd like a tall Labatt's and an order of potato skins," I would reply.

"Um....ma'am, this is Home Depot."

"It says very clearly that these are BAR STOOLS. I would like a beer and some potato skins, if it isn't too much to ask. I've been waiting for a long time." They insisted that there was no beer in the entire building.

So I settled for a box of nails and two packages of lawn/leaf bags and left the store. On to the next adventure - The Craft Store.

I love craft stores. I would cheerfully spend hundreds of dollars each week at the craft store if I could, buying tons and tons of projects and being totally proud of myself and my outrageous creativity. Actually completing these projects is an entirely different prospect altogether, and completely irrelevant to this conversation.

Up and down the rows I walked, looking at each and every item in the store. I was going to milk this adventure for everything I possibly could. I finally had the freedom to listen to my own inner self asking if I could have this or that. No toddler was going to out-selfish me this time! This was All About Me.

About halfway around the store, I realized anew how much my life had changed. I had volunteered to go get nails? That can't be good.