To-Do List

Gardener Friend has a Things To Do notepad that fascinates Cranky #2. At 8 a.m., C2 labored to write her name at the top and, if time had permitted, would have included "Woke Up" and "Ate Breakfast" to mark those accomplishments off in an orderly fashion. C2's approach to lists reminds Meta Cranky of the way her former employer's New York office handled production deadlines. The deadlines for Texas editors were always the ones posted on the schedule. The New Yorkers' deadlines were generally the day they emptied their ashtrays and finally finished their manuscripts.

While there's a great deal of satisfaction in marking off The Things I Do Anyway on one's Things To Do list, the Crankies had to blaze a new path today and buy a washing machine. MC lowered her expectations to the "Hopeless Losers" setting and made for the big box store. There, she found not just her heart's desire, the plainest of top-loaders, but also surprising moments of glad grace.

In MC's experience, finding customer service at a big box store is like looking for the elusive Ivory Billed Woodpecker in the wilds of darkest Arkansas. You can hear it calling from afar, and experts declare its existence, but there haven't been any confirmed sightings in 60 years. Cynics, take note: First, a Guy with Clues located our a wierdo light bulb. Then he observed to C2, pleasantly and confidently, that playing with the broken sample bulb we brought wasn't an option. No hard feelings. She surrendered the broken bulb to MC's new BF, the Guy with Clues.

Now, gentle readers, hold onto your mousepads: there were TWO Guys with Clues in the same big box store. This one not only found our modest appliance, he devised a diversion strategy to keep C2 from playing PBS Kids on his computer. Can you run two aisles over and find the blue washer for me? How about the red washer? Bet you can't lie down in the bath tub. Bet she fell for it like a jive sucka. I heard the angel choirs singing. No eye-rolling while C2 sat on a lawn mower or tried to flush the demo toilets. I light a candle for Guys with Clues at the Customer Service Altar. Simultaneously, I weep for the legions of Big Box customers who are wandering, zombie-like, in warehouses nationwide, unable to drive home until they find an associate to get a toilet flapper thingy from the back for them. America's DIY-ers are doomed to wander around like the Ancient Mariner because I bagged the last Guys with Clues.

On the car ride home, the Crankies orally listed the things they had accomplished in their outing: Swam at the Y. Ate Gardener Friend's oatmeal. Bought a light bulb. Had a tea party with a cousin. Got flower seeds for a garden. Climbed a rock wall. Ate a noteworthy navel orange. But which of those things made their "Best Of" list, Meta Cranky wanted to know. C2 refused to prioritize; every item on her list was her favorite. C1, nursing sore fingers from her rock climbing, was of the same mind. But, with its smell still wafting through the car, the navel orange had the inside track.
--MCG