Hot! Nails! I want a cute boy in my take-away bag! Who am I to say?

Hot, it is! Humid, it is! Muggy, it is! Ok, you get the drift. But then of course this is July in the mid south. One does not expect snowflakes.

The wooden railings on my front stoop have become loose. Both the posts and the cross bars. It appears they were held together by small cheap nails. But I decided that some judicious nails in strategic spots would work wonders. The first ostacle was realizing I didn't have the right kind of nails. The second obstacle was determining what the right kind of nails were. The third was finding the right kind of nails.

I went to one home repair place yesterday. And nails they had. Boxes, bigger boxes, cartons, tubs of nails. For wood, sheetrock, plywood, concrete, metal, plastic, brick, etc. I finally realized the boxes were color coded. And that within the category, there are many different lengths.

(At first, I thought the "D" designation had something to do with the diameter of the nail head. But I now see it is related to the length. 6D is a two-inch nail. 10D is a three-inch nail. 20D is a four-inch nail. Urrrr! But what does that make D equal? Odd, there are only six designations for a nail up to 2 inches. But there are fourteen designations for nails between 2 inches and four inches.)

I gave up yesterday because the lighting was so dreadful, I couldn't read the labels. I knew I'd get home and find out I had a box of nails only suitable for attaching aluminum framing to plexiglass.

The goddess was in a better mood today when I trudged off to another store. One with much better lighting. However this place had an even larger selection of nails. Including bins on the bottom shelf containing very large loose nails. They were so odd and striking, (no pun intended), they were like tiny works of metal art. And I don't think I've ever seen another sign that indicated the items were 9 cents each.

Hardware and home improvement stores always fascinate me. On one hand, I'm awed by the sheer size and variety of the merchandise. Then I'm overwhelmed by a distribution system that can bring all these items together. Next, I like the sawdust smell. Not to mention, the weather-worn burly guys in denim shirts who work there.

(For some reasons or other, there were about a dozen new sports cars for sale in front of the store. I didn't see a sign saying by whom. I glanced at a couple, then stopped to look at the sticker prize on one. Would you fucking believe $90K!!! It was a Porche with a base price of $73,000!)

Once home, I slipped out to my front steps and proceeded to hammer away hitting wood, nail and fingers in roughly equal proportion. Everything went along swimmingly until I got to a column in which the bottom had rotted. So now I have another problem to deal with.

Of course, I was very dignified and did none of these things.

My friend is going through one of the periods in which he has realized that a relationship may be over. One in which you feel no longer needed. One that makes you feel empty and hollow. Alas, one in which neither party can be said to be at fault.

My usually behaviour in such situations is to listen intently. Ask a few prudent questions. And allow the other party to reach closure. At least, one thing I've learned is not to give advice. Who am I to know? And who am I to say?

PAX!