Dear Mr. Home Depot Paint Guy

What happened to us????

Your behavior of late has me contemplating a switch to Menards...

I sniffle with nostalgia at those bygone days of daily paint runs, and your constant, sub-standard attempts at flirtation. Remember those days? Remember mixing my "Chai Latte" and "September Sunset" (all in Behr flat interior gallons, of course) and how you counseled me on the value of Purdy rollers over those cheap six-packs??? Remember how you tried to look down my shirt and I caught you and you STILL did it again to the point where I avoided you like the plague for the entire summer of 2004?

Remember?

I do. I remember your stoned eyes and greasy long hair, (it freaked me out when you cut it - I thought that maybe your probation officer forced it or something...) and I remember how you used to bounce this rubber ball around the store... annoyingly.

Well now, my dear, what the hell happened?

First you disappear... I mean, the service improved and the other paint guys are infinitely more knowledgeable, but hey, I kinda missed you! I figured that you were either in the workhouse for drugs or maybe had moved up in the world... y'know... like to Ace Hardware or something.

But then, yesterday, as I doggedly made my third run for Behr "Mineral Red" and "Coral Serenade" with a side of semi-gloss trim white, I SAW YOU, back behind that trusty paint counter again.

You looked so cleaned up, with freshly-cut hair and just a hint of (metro-looking) shadow on your face, and you were squinting with irritation at some portly lesbian couple who apparently could not agree on the benefits of eggshell versus semi-gloss finish.

(I assumed that you had given them your signature, gruff statement about how semi-gloss is the only way to go unless you're a BLEEPING IDIOT, but perhaps you were working on self-control and that's what pissed you off...)

So I smile, run my fingers through enamel-caked bangs in a desperate effort to dislodge at least SOME of the "Coral Seranade" which at that moment served usefully as hair gel, and walked up to the counter. You frowned at me, as usual. I handed you my chips.

"Mineral Red, Coral Serenade, flat, interior, gallon, and Cottage White semi," I piped out in staccato.

"Ungh."

You grabbed the chip and turned to the computer.

"Ten minutes."

I beamed, and went to wander outside among the impatiens, lattice panels, and 40%-off apple seedlings.

When I returned, my dear Home Depot Paint Guy, you were busy with another customer, informing them of how the ceiling-texture-patch-spray was actually crap, and so I had to claim my paint from one of your esteemed colleagues.

And to my shock and horror....

He gave me quarts! (QUARTS?)

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Uh, did you need gallons?" His adolescent, acne-ridden face crunched up as if I were about to flog him with a willow branch.

"Um, yeah... but... that's okay... I guess I can start with these," I responded numbly.

"I'm sorry ma'am," he whined. "It's how he wrote it," and he pointed at.... YOU.

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I thought you knew me, Mr. Home Depot Paint Guy.... I thought you knew me.

We are SO finished.