My new vacuum (strictly self-indulgent)

(click on the image to see full size)

St Anthony

My wife, Hilary, and I spent a good part of the past two days slowly driving our golf cart through the pasture looking for lost horseshoes. It's not that we can't afford to lose a three dollar shoe, it's that around here, riding in the pasture in a golf cart is considered a 'night out'.
After several minutes of scouring the ground, Hilary invoked St. Anthony to help us find them.
My first thought was that this Anthony fella surely has more important matters on his plate than helping us find a couple of rusty horseshoes, but being unfamiliar, I asked who he was.
"He's the patron saint of lost articles", she said.
"Really? They have a saint for everything, don't they?"
Lost articles.
I began wondering what it must've been like for Anthony that day he earned his wings.  A group of angels and wanna-be angels gathered around the holy water cooler, lamenting the poor play of the Giants, and the entire NFC east, in fact.
"Even the boss can't help the Redskins" one of them joked.
"Ant'nee!", St Vinny, the patron saint of summoning other patron saints gathered by the holy water cooler calls, "They wanna see yous in the office."
The other angels good-naturedly rib Anthony, "Oooh, Anthony, somebody's getting promoted!"  "Way to go, Anth ole' chap!"
"Alright, alright" Anthony interrupts, "Give it a rest"
Anthony and St Vinny leave the holy water cooler, past rows and rows of white cubicles, down a white hallway, up a white escalator, past the gates into God's office.
Anthony nudges St. Vinny and points to a painting on the wall, "Dogs playing poker? Really?"
St Vinny pushes Anthony's arm down, shaking his head. "Don't ask."
Soon after, a voice speaks to them, "Anthony, we've appreciated the work you've done around here and decided it was time we promoted you to full angel."
"That's awesome boss."
"Vinny, the wings" God commanded.
Vinny opened a filing cabinet, removed a pair of angel wings and securely tied them to Anthony's shoulders.
"So what am in charge of?  Defending mankind from evil?  Battling demons and protector of truth, honor and justice?"
"No, no, we've got one of those" God said, "You are the patron saint of findin' stuff."
"No, really, the suspense is killing me."
"Yes, really.  You are now St. Anthony, patron saint of finding things. Have at it."

Cut to 1000 years later:

St. Anthony, running through heaven, wearing a paper hat, red smock and carrying a set of car keys.  He's perspiring, out of breath and disheveled.
"Lady, here's your keys.  They were in your purse the whole time." Anthony says, as he tosses the keys and runs in the other direction.
"Johnny, here's that tic-tac you lost in the couch."  "Try getting a few in your mouth next time" he mutters under his breath.
Suddenly, a voice booms over the public address system, "Anthony, we've got a pair of horseshoes missing in Virginia.  They asked for you personally."
"Really? They've been looking for all of two minutes!" he barks.  Resigned, however, to his duty, he hangs his head, adding, "Be right there."
And that is how we came to find our horseshoes.

The Difference Between Men and Women #613: Light as decorative accent

My wife and I play a game that neither of us has ever acknowledged playing: She walks around the house turning the lights on, I follow her, turning them off.   While this game is played in households all across America, I don't know that anyone has stopped to look into the origins of the game.  Here they are:

As little boys, all men spent hours of their childhood watching the little wheel on the electric meter on the side of the house spin around in circles; sometimes it spun slowly, taking a couple of minutes for the little black line to make one revolution.   Other times it whirred around like a deli slicer, lethal enough to cut off that arm and a leg it was going to take to pay the bill.  

As curious boys, we wondered what made it spin.  What we found was an underground pit, a portal to hell, where ogres and beasts  are whipped while demons play "The Rowing of the Galley Slaves" on kettle drums made from human skulls.  Medusas cackle with glee at their pain while deformed and grotesque souls revel in their damnation.  The ogres and beasts, covered in the grime and soot and grease of hell, labor to push a giant turnstile, like Conan the Barbarian bellowing to Crom!  The whip cracks, the beast master roars, the turnstile grinds ever so slowly while fire and brimstone scorch the backs of the damned.
That's how electricity is made.

Meanwhile, my wife skips through the house from room to room, sprinkling potpourri and straightening throw pillows, always turning the light on as she leaves the room, as though it were a treat plucked from her little basket of sunshine.  
"Why are you turning the lights on?" I dared ask on one occasion.
"It makes the room so much brighter and cheerier" was the answer I already knew. She obviously had no concern for the ogres and beasts of hell, suffering to bring us every drop of artificial sunlight.

I've learned to pick my battles and deal with the lights, but sometimes I've got to stand strong.  One of those times was when we were recently leaving the house to start several hours of errand-running. As I reached for the door, my wife turned on all of the lights in the kitchen.
"Why are you turning the lights on? We're leaving."
"I know, but it makes the kitchen so much cheerier."
"For whom? No one will be here."
"I know, but when we come back into the house, it'll be cheery."
"Tell you what, when we get home, you wait in the car and I'll run inside and turn the lights on."
"It's just a few lights."
"If you multiplied 'just a few lights' times every household in the world that was leaving them on, that's billions of lights."
"C'mon, I want to get home so we can take a nap."

Fine, we leave the lights on so the house will be cheery when we get home.  
But they'll be no naps for the ogres and beasts and rest of us slaving away to make the little wheel spin.  Crom!

Our Tale of Woes at Lowe's

My wife and I had just relocated from our home in New Jersey to a slightly larger one in Kinsale, Virginia.  It was no minor logistical feat moving not only ourselves, but our ever-growing menagerie of horses, goats, dogs, cats, chinchillas, bird and a pig named Rudy, in a caravan consisting of two and a half tractor trailers, one horse trailer and one rental van stuffed with animal cages resembling a bad game of Tetris.

We finally made it to Virginia and the stress of all the planning, harassing and threatening washed away as soon as we were able to sell the NJ home shortly thereafter.
Our thoughts then turned to all the fixer-uppering that needed to be done to make our new house a home.  Included in that was replacing the out-of-place, undersized refrigerator in the kitchen with a built-in model, some new cushions for the outdoor furniture and about eight hundred feet of black aluminum fencing that would allow us to let the dogs roam free without having to hover over them.  Being savvy NJ suburbanites, we knew the best place to go for all of our homeowning needs was the Lowe's in Tappahannock, about a thirty minute drive from Kinsale. It should be noted that everything is at least a thirty minute drive from Kinsale.  Some places you can't get to at all from there.

The refrigerator purchase:

We initially shopped at Lowe's online, browsing for just the right built in refrigerator, but realized it would behoove us to rely on the expertise of the sales professionals in Lowe's appliance department to guide us through the options of each make and model, pros and cons of one feature over another and maybe even show us hidden price cuts only known to those with the secret Lowe's decoder ring.  We arrived at Lowe's in Tappahannock and met the very accommodating and friendly Sherrell, who showed us a computer that we could use to shop online at Lowe's so we could browse for just the right built in refrigerator. We clicked on one we liked, added it to cart, paid the nine-thousand dollar price tag and were told the in house delivery would be scheduled within two weeks.  Hey, if you consider the price per pound of the five hundred pound refrigerator, we got a bargain.
Done.

The cushion purchase:

In my world, the way you replace outdoor furniture cushions is by running over to Wal*Mart - also a thirty minute drive to Tappahannock - spending forty-two fifty on some plastic cushions with green and white stripes and bam! you're done.  (I'm a savvy NJ suburbanite, remember?)  Hilary had another vision for our outdoor furniture cushions and this, once again, began by browsing online - a browse that ultimately and inevitably led its way to Lowes.com. There she was able to find just the right cushions made of just the right fabric and filled with just the right material for under two-thousand dollars. (is one of those materials golden fleece?)  She placed her order online and we eagerly began counting down the twenty one days until they arrived at the store for pickup in... wait a second... La Plata, Maryland?  Oops, the website defaulted to the wrong store.  A brief, two hour call to Lowe's not only straightened out the store mishap, but they were now going to deliver the cushions for free!  Let the three week anticipation begin!

The fence purchase:

This time, Lowe's had to drive the half hour from Tappahannock to see US!  We met with David, who didn't actually have the samples we were expecting, but he did have a nice seven page pamphlet showing the different styles of fence available to us.  David and I spent the next half hour walking the yard as I showed him the desired path of the fence while he measured it by walking the grounds with the little wheel on a stick thingy.  From the side door, past the party pavilion, along the trees in the back, being sure to leave a wide enough path for lawn mowers, along the rip rap and back across to the other side of the house.  Eight hundred feet. I did the long multiplication in my head - eight hundred times the price per foot I saw in the little pamphlet, carry the one, add seven, divide by two - roughly eighty five hundred for the fence, a couple thousand for installation... we should be somewhere around twelve thousand dollars installed.  (I am a savvy NJ suburbanite, after all)
"That'll be twenty-two thousand three hundred forty two dollars and fifty one cents."  gulp.  
"Can you double check that math?"  
"Sure."
"Carry the one, add seven, divide by two.. that'll be twenty-two thousand three hundred forty two dollars and fifty one cents."
I wrote the check for twenty-two thousand three hundred forty two dollars and fifty one cents and we anxiously awaited the thirty days until the crew could begin installation.  
I noticed that the check cleared two days later.  It's reassuring to see that Lowe's is on the ball.

The refrigerator delivery:

From my office, I could see the straight truck pull up the driveway.  I met the driver outside. 
"I have your refrigerator.  How are you getting it off the truck?"
"Excuse me?"
"This thing weighs five hundred pounds.  I hope you have a way to get it off the truck."
"Wait here."
I ran inside and called the customer service desk of the Tappahannock Lowe's.
"Your driver is here and he's expecting me to unload the refrigerator. Am I missing something, or aren't you supposed to move it into place?"
"Oh, that's ridiculous.  They absolutely need to bring it inside."
"That's what I thought."
Now I find myself in the position of making the Lowe's delivery guys do their job.  I went back outside, where it seems the driver had just spoken with the store.
"I'm willing to work with you to unload the refrigerator," he tells me.
That's mighty nice of you.  
Knowing the only way I was going to get my nine thousand dollar refrigerator into the house was to grab an end and lift, I rolled up my sleeves and we unloaded the truck.  The two delivery guys schemed thirty-seven different ways to get the refrigerator inside the house that didn't involve heavy lifting, until we found ourselves staring at the refrigerator as it lay on its side outside the front door.  At this point there were no more options - they strapped on their heavy-lifty things, secured them around the refrigerator and with a heave, lifted the refrigerator between them and crab-walked it into the kitchen.  The lead driver removed the cardboard box, leaving the refrigerator on a wooden pallet in the kitchen.  Being a savvy NJ suburbanite, I did not tip them.
I spent the next hour struggling the refrigerator off of the pallet, gouging the hardwood floors in the process.  
Not the refrigerator shopping experience I was expecting.

The fence cancellation/non-cancellation:

It had been a month since we ordered the twenty-two thousand three hundred forty two dollars and fifty one cents worth of Lowe's fencing, yet we had not been contacted regarding the installation.  Hilary decided to call to inquire.  After a brief, forty minute conversation with their helpful customer service staff, she informed me, "The order never went through.  There was some kind of flag on the order and the manufacturer doesn't have it or they never ordered it.  No one is really sure"
The next day we received a call from those same helpful customer service people, "Just kidding!  It was ordered, but we won't be able to install it until the end of August."
Fine.

The cushion non-delivery:

Three weeks had elapsed and we had not seen hide nor hair of our outdoor cushions, green and white striped or otherwise.  Hilary called the Lowe's eight-hundred number that had been so helpful previously to find that the order had been canceled.
"What do you mean it's been canceled?  We already paid for them!"
"The manufacturer stopped making the style you ordered."
"So, you sold us cushions that don't exist, took our money, cancelled the order without telling us and that was that?  Were you ever going to call us to tell us the order was canceled?  What about our money?"
The call went on like this for the next two solid hours.  To this day I'm not sure they ever refunded our money.  Perhaps as a savvy NJ suburbanite I should check.

At this point my confidence that Lowe's is capable of not only delivering but installing twenty-two thousand three hundred forty two dollars and fifty one cents worth of fencing has waned.  What kind of confusion and frustrations lie ahead, given the larger scope of this project?  I reviewed their contract, saw the two-day only cancellation policy, and decided to cancel anyway.  I sent the following email to David as well as customercare@lowes.com:
Dear David,
Back in June we signed a contract to purchase fencing on our property in Kinsale, Va.  The purchase was for a non-custom fence, with installation still scheduled three weeks out.
Due to factors that have arisen since we signed the contract, we find it necessary to cancel.
Please oblige our request and provide a full refund at this time.  At that point, we will consider this contract, as well as all other outstanding matters with Lowe's closed.
Thank you,
Michael Holmes

Surprisingly, I did not get any push-back from Lowe's regarding the cancellation. I did received a voice mail from the Tappahannock store manager, asking me to call the assistant manager tomorrow.  He, apparently, is a savvy Virginia suburbanite.
I spoke to Matt, the young assistant manager, to make arrangements for our twenty-two thousand three hundred forty two dollars and fifty one cent refund.
"What we have to do, Mr. Holmes, is wait til we have a good day at the store, give you the money back on a series of two-thousand dollar gift cards, which we'll then cash our for you here at the store. It may take a few trips because we generally don't have that kind of money on any one day here at the store."
"Sooo, like, you can't just cut me a check?"
"No, I'm sorry. I know that would be much more convenient but we don't have any kind of account where we can do that."

I thought, how about corporate cuts us a check and you run bags of money back and forth until you settle it with them?  But I felt I was in a precarious situation so I agreed to go to the Tappahannock store on Wednesday for our first installment.
I arrived at the store at four pm on Wednesday and met with Matt, who apparently skipped school today to play assistant store manager.

the pile, still $9300 to go

"Hi Mr. Holmes, let me grab our head cashier and I'll be right with you."
Matt disappeared into the back room and quickly emerged with a manila envelope in his hands.  He removed the contents and began counting seven thousand thirteen dollars and fifty cents, mostly in tens and twenties, right on the customer service desk at the front of the store.  I've since been in to collect another six thousand dollars, leaving a balance of ninety-three hundred twenty nine dollars and one cent. Matt called yesterday afternoon to inform me that they would be able to pay us the balance of the money tomorrow, if I could show up after five pm.  I imagined someone must have paid cash for a John Deere mower.
"Absolutely, I can be there."

Today I'll make that last half hour drive to the Tappahannock Lowe's, pick up the balance of ninety-three hundred twenty nine dollars and one cent and our relationship with Lowe's will draw to a close.  After all, I am a savvy NJ suburbanite.



Update: I traveled to Lowe's to collect our final installment of ninety-three hundred twenty nine dollars and one cent and found that Matt had rounded up to ninety-three hundred thirty dollars!  Sweeeeeeeet!