In an attempt at fixing a broken handle on a sliding door � and handle which, we have recently determined, is so old that we actually have to replace THE ENTIRE DOOR in order to fix it properly because they don�t make them like this anymore � I made a trip to the local hardware store to pick up some, well, hardware.

All was quiet in the hardware store this afternoon. It�s a drizzly day. One elderly woman was perusing the Christmas lights at the front of the store. The lone cashier, in her corporate issue Santa hat, was picking her fingernails in boredom. All the action was in hardware where three strapping young men (did I just say strapping?) were tossing around boxes of stock like they were playground balls and stacking them on shelves. They were discussing the easy listening Christmas medley pouring out of every speaker in the store. �What is this? Could it be any more boring?� one asked. �Looks like it�s time for our meds,� said a second. The third suggested, �We should just sell stuff that�s gray and white. Everyone who wanted something in another color would just have to go somewhere else.� I listened to their banter as I wandered up and down the aisle trying to find what I needed. Finally, I determined I needed help.

I approached clerk number three. �Excuse me, do you have�� and I started to laugh. I needed a three-inch screw, but I couldn�t get the words out. I tried again. This time tears came to my eyes. The clerk rightfully looked at me like I was nuts. In the end, I handed him the piece I was trying to match, he found what I needed and I paid my 32 cents and sprinted out of the store in shame, still flame red to my ears.

Oy. I really am a grown-up, I swear.

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