HOME DEPOT: ODYSSEUS' WORST NIGHTMARE

I needed a star-head screwdriver this morning because I was attempting to take apart the vacuum, apparently to shock myself to death when touching the motor as I know nothing about vacuum repair.  Where can I get a star-head screwdriver, I asked myself? Then, like Odysseus from The Odyssey, I felt the seductive melodies of the Sirens;  HOME and DEPOT were their names.   As soon as it popped into my mind the neuropathways of the DEPOT obsession started pulsating and firing at rapid rates.  My Limbic system was on fire with anticipation of all the tools and goodies that I needed in addition to the star-head screwdriver.  

So, as I was driving closer I could feel the pull of the Siren’s call and there it was….the majestic  Hunter Orange square logo with it’s utilitarian, no nonsense, don’t got time for fancy lettering cause I’m a busy working guy, stamped white lettering.  Fantastic!  By the way:  If you’ve ever read the book Propoganda by Edward Bernays you’ll understand how ridiculously perfect just the logo alone is, but anyway, I digress.   I then walk in, the cool air rushes onto me in a wave creating an amazing juxtaposition to the 98 degree Mars –like atmosphere just mere feet away in the parking lot.  “I am home”…  I don’t even know where to begin (The Sirens in aisle 9 are calling me, plumbing supplies!), “Focus damnit, focus!”,  I have a mission.. get a star-head screwdriver, and that’s IT.  (The Sirens in aisle 13 are calling me now),  “I sure could use some 4x4 pieces of wood…I DID want to build a new kitty tower at the house.”  (The Sirens from Aisle 22 are calling), “.. and don’t forget, you’ll need some carpet pieces to put ON the kitty tower.”  (The Siren in aisle 9 is reminding me that I’ll need a staple gun to mount the carpet to the new kitty tower) “Thanks Siren from aisle 9", I say.  

So, long story short, unlike Odysseus, I didn’t have any wax for my ears to block the Siren’s calls or a crew of dedicated sailors to hold me back.  I didn’t buy the shit for the kitty tower, but let’s just say like a recovering alcoholic who just fucked up their 20 year dry streak, I got what I wanted but I feel like an asshole!  Who the hell even uses a Messograf  pocket caliper pen anyways?  Hell if I know, but I own one now if you wanna borrow it.