URINE REMOVER

We were walking around Lowe’s the other day.  We had just moved into a new house.  It’s the only time my wife likes being at Lowe's.  She gets to decorate.  Organization.  Under the sink storage; closet storage.  We were walking down the cleaning product aisle.  In Lowe's.  Cleaning products.  How did that happen? 

I get how it started.  I'm betting it started with push brooms.  That’s a man’s broom.  Some manly man doesn’t want to use a pink broom to sweep out the garage, so he has a huge push broom.  Then they said, “Let’s add mops.  That’s kind of like a broom.”  Then they had to add the cleaning products to use with the mops. 

And there's toilet paper.

Yes, Lowe’s sells toilet paper.  Really?

I won’t even go there.

HAHA!  Go there………nevermind.

So we’re walking down the cleaning aisle, looking at something to clean our new hand scraped wood floors.  Hand scraped.  I scraped our hardwood floors once and got yelled at.  NOW, they’re the nicest thing to have in your house.  Go figure. 

So I’m a couple of steps ahead of my wife, and she taps me on the shoulder.  I turn around and she is holding a bottle of Urine remover.

Urine remover?  That’s GENIUS!

I look at the shelf, and there is plenty of it.

“Stay here,” I tell her, as I rush off. 

I come back with an empty cart, and start loading up.  Little bit of useless trivia for you here.  You can fit 119 bottles of Urine Remover in a Lowe’s shopping cart.

We get to the register, and the woman obviously wasn’t happy I chose her lane.  Maybe she was at the end of her shift.  But kudos to her; she is trying to be nice.

“Goodness,” she says, looking at the cart.  “Do you know how many you have?”

“No,” I smile.  “I didn’t count.  I just dumped them all in.

She is trying to be polite, but I can sense the tension.

“You must have a LOT of dogs,” she says, shaking her head slightly.

What kind of dumb statement is that?  How did she make that assumption?  I look at my wife, and she gives me a look that seems to convey that I’m the one not understanding something.

She grabs her little scanner, and comes around to our side of the counter.  She grabs an empty basket, and pulls it next to ours.  Picking up the bottles, she begins to scan.

“One, two, three…”

I can see her smile leaving as she gets to around thirty.

“Guess I should have counted them,” I offer.

Her smile is completely gone now.

She empties the partially filled basket and starts over.

“One, two, three.”

I look back at my wife, who is smirking and shaking her head.

I give her the look that only people who have been married for fifteen years have learned to comprehend.  She steps toward me, and says I messed up her counting by talking to her.

“…twenty-one, twenty-two…”

Being the nice guy I am, I quickly apologize.

I hear the sigh escape her lips as she stops.  Once again, she empties the mostly empty cart into my almost full one.

“One, two….”

I feel badly for her.  I was only trying to be nice.  She has a hard job.  A lot of people shopping at Lowe’s are men, and they aren’t there because they get to do something fun.  They are there because something broke, or their wives have decided they want new shelves put up in the laundry.  It’s the weekend, and that means the projects are cutting into our football time. 

I look behind my wife at the other people in line, and there isn’t a smile to be had.  I look back at the checker, still counting.

“Wow.  No wonder you’re so grumpy…”

Ever feel the words coming out of your mouth, right as your brain tells you NOT to say it?

“Thanks, brain.  I know it NOW.”

It’s not even a sigh.  It’s a full-blown groan.

I’ve learned my lesson.  Not another word from me.

Just then, I hear the call come over the intercom.

“We need all available checkers to the front please.”

She was doing wonderfully, and was almost pleasant again as I heard her nearing the eighty mark.

“…76, 77…”

Then the beeping stopped.  I can see she is pressing the little trigger, but there are no beeps to be had.

She looked at me like it was my fault. 

I looked at her apologetically, and said, “guess you should have checked the battery on your scanner, huh?”

Okay, so I hadn’t learned my lesson.

I was happy to get out of there with my loot, and couldn’t wait to try it.

Think about it.  What an awesome time-saver.  And I’m 50.  I need all the time I can get.  No more middle of the night trips.  In fact, I’ll never have to go to the bathroom again.

Yeah, well…that night, the Emergency Room nurses were laughing too.  My wife was laughing so hard she could barely get the entire story out.  I thought that was pretty rude.  I had my head stuck in a little bucket, getting rid of everything I had eaten in the last six months, and they are all laughing at me.  

I think that may have been worse than dealing with the grumpy people at Lowe's.