Home Despot inspires a particularly delirious delusional state in me.
I think it’s the fact that you can find pretty much everything there with which to make or destroy your average house and all of its accessory structures and miscellaneous appurtenances.
A few years ago, I required a crowbar, as one does.
So I hied myself hither to Home Depot to select the ideal iron bar for the job. After the crowbar was acquired, I decided to have a browse around, ’cause it’s a waste to go to Home Despot without leering at the spray paint, trying to find the most hideously ostentatious “chandelier,” considering the Garden Weasel, and pricing toilets.
I was sashaying about, crowbar in hand, enjoying its iron heft, and within minutes my brain had switched into mayhem mode, and I was daydreaming about the entertainment possibilities that could lie in just stomping around town, crowbar in hand, to see what people’s reactions would be.
Bear in mind that at the time of my crowbar acquisition, I tended to dress like a candy-raver on Casual Friday:
I reckon I might have missed my calling in the arena of performance art. Obviously I need to go and seek a grant.