This weekend was a home improvement weekend for our new house. Built in a custom walk-in-closet, added a hanging pot rack, and 500 other small things. Being new to the suburbs, I have just now discovered the sheer joy of Home Depot.

This is a place where you should be required to surrender your credit cards on the way in, some sort of addict store-imposed self-control mechanism to keep you from inadvertently dropping a 2nd mortgage on a 10′ tall 782′ wide fully-stabilized wall back-strapped kid-safe perfect-for-tools-and-car-seats-and-those-obscure-boxes-you-have-been-toting-around-for-5-moves-and-are-frightened-to-actually-open-them-in-mixed-company garage shelving system.

I mean, I was aware of the place previously, in an abstract "hey that’s kind of handy if I didn’t live in my swank downtown apartment" sort of way. I just didn’t fully comprehend the sheer power of having so many things under one roof that I must have but had never heard of prior to walking in on my way to pick up a garden hose.

I…am humbled by Home Depot. And addicted. I am sitting here at work on a Monday morning actually fantasizing about swinging by on the way home to pick up a set of drawers. That’s just not healthy.