The Home Depot Date

Back when I had my farm, there were long stretches when it seemed like every penny went to repairs--whether to the property, a piece of equipment, or one of the horses. That new truck the vet was driving? Yeah, pretty sure it should've had my name on the vanity plate. 

So you'd think that the inevitable trips to Home Depot would've been a chore--Except that I lived way out in the country (by New England standards, at any rate) and was in a weird mental place, so sometimes the drive into 'town' was my only outside face-to-face contact for weeks at a time. The ex and I joked about Home Depot dates, and went through the McDonalds drive-thru on the way home to mend fences--physically, at least.

When I called it quits on that lifestyle, I was grateful to hole up in my post-breakup apartment and call my landlady when the plumbing dripped into the basement or a mystery water stain appeared in the corner of the bedroom. And when Arizona came along, I made it clear that I wasn't looking for a fixer-upper on any level.

Now, he's a handy guy, and I've done more than my share of plumbing, wiring and construction projects (see above re: owning a farm), so we could conceivably do most of what needs doing as home owners. But the thing is … we don't have to. We intentionally bought a place that didn't need much work aside from cosmetics, freeing us to use more of our free time for, well, free-time stuff. Fishing. Biking. Kayaking. Watching the entirety of Breaking Bad in a weekend. You know--the important things!

We still have the occasional Home Depot Date, but they're usually because of non-emergency upgrade-type projects around the house. (I sincerely hope I haven't jinxed myself by putting that in writing!) Gaskets and sealant to install a depth finder in the big kayak, lumber to build my floating desk, a storm door to help keep out the cold. 

I wouldn't say I've upgrade my post-HD dining options, as many of Arizona's and my milestones have occurred at Taco Bell or Kentucky Fried. However, those meals are savored as naughty grease-and-sodium-filled exceptions to our diets rather than scarfed as fuel on the run, and we both enjoy these occasional forays into the world of DIY consumerism.

This past weekend, in preparation for the arrival of the Big Brown Couch, we crafted a plan to move the TV and wires and such to a new wall, and dress the old TV wall with two large pictures that Arizona's mother had brought over at her last visit. So we  hied ourselves off to Big Orange with our to-do list in hand. And, as we loaded our cart with the various odds and ends we would require, Arizona pulled out his phone and snapped a picture

and he said, "Look, it's baby's first Home Depot Date!"

Here's to many more. And to you, my ReaderFriends (especially those beginning to emerge from a snowy winter), may your shopping lists be short and your Home Depot Dates non-emergency.

Doc Jess