I wander the aisles of Lowes looking for an appropriate border for the church bathroom, something with a little spiritual enhancement to it's edges. I am supposed to meet you somewhere after you return from the bathroom but I can't remember if it's tools or lawn and garden, which are separated by at least an acre of concrete so I am reluctant to go to far either way. Instead I stand aimlessly in the middle wondering if I am lost or if you are lost or if I will ever find the border to end all borders in the stock wallpaper section. My dilemmas are plentiful, my answers few. In the big box store the box is divided into about ten zillion sections each about a mile long so it might more appropriately be named "Labyrinth" than "Lowes". That name would most probably be lost on the many shoppers who come through the doors so at least from the Madison Avenue perspective "Lowe's" works.
I begin to edge towards the garden center thinking that surely that is where you would most likely wander to, being that you are feeling the urgency of spring planting, grass seeding, fertilizing, and mowing. But alas, I do not see you. I am dreading the walk back to tools, a section of the big box defined by narrow, long aisles with no cut throughs. Tools is not my favorite part of this place. I am more interested in lighting and paint, and love to look at hardware and faucets, and then there's all those great cabinets in mini kitchens that make you dream of what they would like in your kitchen eliminating the greasy, out of date ones you currently have. There's also the flooring section where you can imagine your bare feet on plush carpet, hard, cold tile or smooth, polished wood.
My reverie is interrupted by a noise. I look up to see one of those big fork lifts backing up towards me with a honking noise. The operator seems annoyed that I have not scurried away from his menacing presence. I am annoyed that he is in the way of my path to tools. I detour and he smugly backs up over my tracks and down the aisle. In tools I am held up by too many men ogling the saws and drills and blocking the very narrow aisle I want to get down. It is frustrating that I cannot see over the merchandise to the next aisle and must walk all the way to the end and around only to find that you are not there. Now I am really irked. What started out as an outing for 3 rolls of border and a couple plants has turned into a walking marathon. If I really wanted to walk it sure wouldn't be inside here. I could be outside walking in the sunshine, looking at the blooming trees of spring and smelling the new grass. Instead I am plodding through aisle after aisle of stuff. And this is stuff that you buy so you can go home and work on projects that you would never have thought of if this stuff wasn't all sitting here crying for you to take it home and hang it up, nail it down, plane it, saw it, paint it, and on and on until you fall into bed groaning. Stuff that overwhelms your desire by the sheer magnitude of it all.
Those old hardware stores, the ones with rickety wooden floors and bad lighting, and shelves bent with merchandise didn't have the seductive call of this big box. You could run in, buy a screw or two, and head out without much thought. You went for what you needed and if you hung around it was to talk to the old guy at the cash register about squirrel proof bird feeders not about how to lay your own hardware floors in a day. I asked one of them one day if those "squirrel proof" bird feeders are guaranteed. He replied, "young lady (aside - I loved that considering that I was only young by comparison, although my best friend says men are always looking for a woman 20 years younger - another story) all those squirrels have to do all day long is sit there and figure out ways to get into those feeders. So you gotta figure that sooner or later they will succeed." Moral: Don't kid yourself, there is no such thing as a squirrel proof bird feeder regardless of the 'money back guarantee' enticement. There aren't many old guys to talk to in the big box, at least not for any length of time because there are too few of them for the square footage of the place. Just the opposite of the old hardware store that usually had about 2 old guys for every customer in the place. I think it's where they all retired to from their jobs at the factories and on the farms. Those guys know a lot about a lot of stuff but they aren't useful in the big box because they, too, are overwhelmed by the size of their surroundings.
I head back to wallpaper, figuring that if you are gone forever I will at least have found the border appropriate for peeing in a church. Turns out they have one that's suitable, bird houses that say peace, love, joy and little candles twined with ivy. Works for me. I feel satisfied that I have accomplished at least one task in this place, even if it has taken 45 minutes of wandering around looking for you and dodging fork lifts. I am ready to check out. My hope now is that you will come to the car when you are done and find me sitting there or that you are there waiting. I get in line behind one of those guys with a long flat bed cart, stacked high with lumber and bags of cement. I comment on the fact that it looks like he will be working hard today. "Jeez", he says, "ever since they opened this place I spend my weekends on projects that take all day and I can't get out of here quickly because my wife wanders off and I spend a half hour looking for her." I nod in sympathy, there is nothing more to say. Walking towards the car I see you waving at me from the parking place. "Where the heck have you been," you say, "I was done 30 minutes ago." I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to go home. Instead I turn to you and say, "don't you think 'I Lost You in Lowes', would make a fine country song."
