After ten years in this house, the need to refurbish and repair is starting to make itself known.  The facing boards on my deck, being placed by the world's most incompetent  contractor, have been refurbished as much as they possibly can, and are now on the "replace." list.  My father,  the only one I know with a truck that I can borrow, has recently finished his consulting job and is actually around so I can borrow said truck.  Fortuitous.  Of course, the exact time when I decide I absolutely must have those boards today,  without fail, otherwise my life will lose all meaning, my parents have taken a trip out of state to pick up car parts. With the truck.  I pulled the third row seating out of the Planet Killer when my BFF's son did my brake job and mounted my new tires (3 months ago) and if I fold up the second row seating, I've got about six feet of cargo space.  Nearly as good as a truck, I say to myself.  So, I toddle off to Home Depot (also known as the House of Orgasmic Bliss.  Seriously, I've come really close to having a moment in the power tools section. Yeah, I'm not much of a girl.), to pick up my 48 total board feet of lumber, sawhorses (cuz I need 'em), primer, paint, and whatever else strikes my fancy for this little project.  Did you know that an unaccompanied chick in a section of Home Depot most chicks don't frequent by themselves are viewed as interlopers?  Or, at least, that's the vibe (heh) I got.  It was bad enough getting the lumber (and loading eight 2x10x8s onto my cart by myself?!? what kind of freak am I?), but when I went into the hardware aisle to look for tie downs, good grief, you would have thought I figured out the secret handshake and moved into the He-Man Woman Hater's Club.  Of course, I could be wrong.