“I was relieved that by the time my turn in line was up, it was Marie at the cash register, at Aubuchon’s. “I need four 2x4s”, I said. That came out a little ambiguous, & I realized it immediately. I could see by the concerned look on her face as she stared at her computer, that her mental math was being challenged. But she rallied. “Eight footers?” she replied. “Yes”, I countered, slightly chagrined that I’d been less than clear on matters of length. “I also need sand”. That was a conversation killer, as it turned out. She tapped away, looking a bit queasy. “Well, it looks like we have play sand in stock”, she said. I’d been ready for this, and so I didn’t look confused, really, just slightly disappointed. “Uh”, I said, and she knew, I knew. “We do have gravel”. I paused to consider this. I thought hard for a minute, not knowing what to say. My imagination was running wild, honestly, to come up with a picture of what she was offering me. Most of the gravel I knew came in trucks, to complete driveway construction or lay building foundations. Not generally a “go-to” in the pantheon of gentile substances offering traction to icy walkways. I considered, for one insane moment, to opt for salt. Just to get out of this conversation that was veering wildly off course, not due to any aberration in my own thinking. I’d merely asked for sand. I guess if I’d been on top of my game, I would have queried with “ Do you have tube sand?”. You can mangle a bag of tube sand, like, what the hell. But instead, I acted interested in gravel. A line was forming behind me, and I thought I could hear the shuffling of impatient feet. “Oh, uh, what kind of gravel ...” I just barely managed to form the words. I just fucking wanted to please my Airbnb guests who were “old” (my age) and unable to walk on frozen slush. “Get it, Marie???” I could have said. But, I like her. She’s a cool person. I was glad she was providing me with customer service, given the other employees in the store who were gloomily loitering around, more than/less than excited to “help me”. “I’ll take it” I said. I didn’t have any clue what it was, except that it came in 50 lb bags. Doable. She rang me up. “It’s outside on the pallets”. Okay, pallets. I can deal with pallets. I can deal with unidentified shit that I’ve just bought because I was too embarrassed not to. Go, Stykos! I suddenly remembered that I was leaning on an ice breaker, not the one I wanted but the cheap one, and hoisted it up with enthusiasm so she could read the bar code. What lay ahead for me, I wondered. What awful combination of gravel, ice breaking, 2x4s and no breakfast would lead me down the path to a nearly wasted afternoon? It was almost too much to fathom. Maybe I could clean out some cat boxes also, while on this roll of earning brownie points from an evil god. Well, it sure wasn’t Marie’s fault. She was as gracious as always, humble, deferential almost, truly an angel in the hardware department. I thought about how she’d helped me find Velcro, chain link, carabiners and jumbo trash bags, on previous visits. All the times I’d asked her for things they didn’t have. The paint questions, the odd sized sink strainer, my search for the perfect fireplace poker. Even the metallic spray paint, in bronze. Who buys that? But she’d led me to it, and now my heat shield was the envy of all my neighbors, sleek and classy, and almost a piece of art. Ah, Marie. I feel you. If it wasn’t for my dad giving me a guitar in the 4th grade, I would have been close behind you, hawking dimension lumber for a living, and dog food. I know you are way more, way more, than what you seem.”
