Home Depot

I absolutely can't stand going to Home Depot. I mean, okay, there is the obvious reason: I'm a musician, clearly not a handyman. Not somebody who knows about band saws and drill bits and ballpeen hammers. Not somebody who could build you a nice bookshelf. No.

But aside from that, the very second I walk through the massive and boring doors of Home Depot, I can feel the energy sapping out of me. The horrible flourescent light, the ugly factory-ness of it all, and that smell. What is that smell?

Nobody is around to help you. And when somebody is around, they don't WANT to help you. They want you to know everything about band saws and drill bits and ballpeen hammers, and just get it yourself! Otherwise, they hate you. You waste their time. You make them earn their salary. I mean, they already have to work in this terribly lit, warehousy, smelly place. The last thing they need is somebody with questions.

This week, it seems like I'm at Home Depot every day. So, that's been fun.