Kevin, like most men, appears to suffer from the Home Depot bug. Sometimes, we’ll be in the middle of a conversation and he’ll freeze for a moment, tip his head as if he can hear a distant voice, and then announce, “I have to go to Home Depot”. I’m not sure what brings on these fits. When I ask him what for, the answer is always rather vague. “We need that new hose attachment”, “I’m out of number 8 wood screws”, or “I want to check out the price of 2x4s” will be the reply. There’s no immediate need. The faucet isn’t leaking, we aren’t in the middle of a project or anything. Just some internal alarm goes off and Kevin must return to the mother ship.

The best I can tell, it’s similar to a women’s need to buy a new purse. For no discernable reason, I’ll pick up my purse and realize it’s all wrong. The strap isn’t broke, there’s no holes in the bottom or busted zipper but something deep within is telling me that this purse must be replaced. I get these subliminal purse messages about once a year. Kevin, however, hears the siren call of Home Depot on a weekly basis.

So yesterday, he announces he needs to go to Home Depot to buy a tube. I have a few empty spots in my garden so, in a fit of impulsiveness, I offer to go with him. Kevin seemed strangely displeased about my suggestion but I didn’t think anything of it. We hop in the car, drive to Home Depot and promptly split. I head to the garden section, and Kevin heads for, well, the rest of the store.

About 40 minutes later, we meet up and go through the weeding process that you’ve seen in any grocery store. Normally, this phenomenon occurs between mother and small child. But in this situation, it’s just me and Kev.

“What is this?” I ask and pick up an item from his cart.

“Those are drill bits,” he replies.

“Don’t you already have drill bits,” I ask.

“Yes, but these are special, they have the new tips,” he answers.

“But you drill bits work just fine, why do you need these?” I ask him.

“I don’t need them but I want them. You dad had them and they’re really cool. They make this pilot hole so you drill straight,” Kevin explains anxiously.

“Well, how much are they,” I respond.

“Um, $17.00?”

“And you already have these?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Well, lets these back then.” I proceed to pull out he next item from the cart. “What is this.”

And so it goes until we have a nice little pile of things to keep and things to put back. I’m also beginning to see why Kevin didn’t want me to come with him. Once our cart has been whittled down the essentials, we head to check out. When we arrive at the checker, he takes one look at Kevin and says, “man, you come in here a lot.”

Ok, so what does that mean when the checker at Home Depot recognizes you? Kevin actually blushed and gave a sheepish smile.

“Aren’t you the guy who was talking about a bbq and wine?” he asked as he scanned our items.

“Yeah, that was me and my father-in-law. This time I’m here with my wife.” Kevin replied.

I felt a cold shiver go down my back. Kevin and my dad are Trouble. With a capital T and that rhymes the P and that stand for Pulling Rocks for National Forest Riverbeds or something to that nature. Kevin later explained that he and Elmo had attempted to engage in witty banter with the Home Depot guy. Now, for those of you who are married to an engineer or are friends with an engineer, you’ll see where I’m going. When two engineers try for witty banter, it usually comes across as lame pun jokes about sin curves that make your fillings shiver. I shudder to think what that poor clerk was subjected to. No wonder Kevin’s face was burned into his memory.

“Yeah, I remember because that was my first day too. Have nice day.” The clerk handed us our bags and we scurried out.

Poor guy, having to deal with Elmo and Kevin on his first day at work. He was probably still in therapy. Kevin tried to downplay the whole incident on the way to the car but I’ve decided he needs some serious help or maybe a support group. It is not normal to be recognized at Home Depot. Ah well, for better and for worse, right?