I finally made my big move to Dallas and moving into the new apartment has been a joyful project. For the better part of a year my adult life sat in a storage unit in Amarillo, packed away like some enormous game of Jenga. But now I get to be in that fun stage where I'm taking all of my Jenga pieces and the new apartment and figuring out how to make it feel like a home.
Sometimes during my little homemaking projects I realize that I need a tool that I don't have. Don't be misled, here. I'm talking putting together a Walmart desk and realizing I need a Phillip's screwdriver not a tile cutter, okay? So lately I've been making visits to The Home Depot. And every time I'm there I can't help but think that if I owned that store I'd start selling cold beer and I'd put it right over there next to all of that fancy pants patio furniture.
Also, I'd nix the whole orange uniform thing. I know it matches the logo, but I bet employee morale will skyrocket if people don't look like The Great Pumpkin every minute on their time card. But what do I know? I went to college and studied dirt.
I never really pictured myself being passed by Mother Earth on a freeway, but if I did, I think I'd expect something more like this:
I don't know. With her shiny new Vette, it kind of makes me wonder if the ole girl's on the take and sold out to special interest groups...if no one renews that vanity plate I'm going to get it and put it on a jacked-up big wheel truck with a roll bar and dual snorkel exhaust.
On one long road trip I listened to a couple of Jack London books on cd. I could swear Hannah was giving me the stink eye every time the story mentioned the sled dogs burrowing into the snow for the night. Call of the Wild? I think not. Shoot, if I don't get to bed early enough, I have to poke White Fang here off of the prime real estate.
