>My husband owns 81 screwdrivers. That is not a typo. Eighty-one. Actually, the count stood at 81 in 1998 when we moved. More have accumulated in the intervening twelve years, I’d wager. Best guess? Right around a hundred–every size and shape you can imagine. No, he doesn’t have a particular passion for screwdrivers . . . he just hates to hunt for things. Forgive the not-PC-gender-stereotyping, but is this a guy thing?
Bob breaks into a cold sweat at the prospect of seeking for necessaries in the Black Hole we call a garage or in the laundry room or kitchen cupboards. He has honed a brilliant, if expensive, strategy for dealing with his rummage-phobia.
If you can’t find your drill bits or the high pressure nozzle for the hose or your navy blue socks forget the scavenger hunt at home. Why would you spend seven minutes looking calmly through your house when you could put your shoes on, hop in the car, drive to Home Depot or Kohl’s, park, shop around, fill a cart with “bargain” items you don’t need, stand in line, check out, shove a buck in the metal lock box of the homeless vet sitting outside the store, load your purchases in the trunk, return the cart to the little cart-corral, drive home, unload your purchases, and search through the heap of not-eco-friendly shopping bags for the item you so urgently needed two hours ago? Trouble is, by now you’ve completely forgotten what you went to the store for in the first place. But at least you’ve got a half dozen new nozzles on hand, and four bonus packs of navy blue socks.
(So, would you rather hunt for the one you have, or just buy a couple more? Does this break down along gender lines? I know you’re reading, I see the stats. Comment already!)