“You know, you call a local store hunting a part for a lawnmower, & you expect to get a local person,” Crapbag is saying to me.

Co-op, Wayne Blalock’s, & Cash Hardware are all closed today, so I’m not sure who he’s referring to, but I play along.

“Oh yeah?”

“And guess what I get? A damn Yankee!” He spits. He then chuckles without mirth. (Mirthlessly, it turns out, is not a word.) “I’m not sure he’s ever even laid eyes on a lawnmower, let alone sold a part to one.”

The problem is, of course, he can’t wait for me to go to Coop tomorrow & pick up this wheel thingie. Must. Have. It. Now.

He goes on to describe the entire conversation. I will spare you the details. Don’t ever say I lack compassion. It involves Home Depot. “So, do they have one or do you not know any more than you did before you called?”

“I don’t know any more than I did before I called.” He’s looking online. “Yeah, here it is. And they’ve got one.”

“You wanna run by there before we go to the hospital?”

He blinks at me. “To Sevierville?”

My turn to blink. “Oh, well, check Knoxville.”

“Where’s one at in Knoxville?”

“Down here by Walmart,” I say, in the tone of ‘duh’. He’s still looking at & blinking. “On the hill???” I continue.

*Blink. Blink*

“You KNOW. They’re up there on the  right!” I’m throwing my harm around to indicate. “You’ve been there. We’ve went TOGETHER. Big parking lot? You walk in & lawn & garden is on your left. Stop blinking at me!!!!”

*Blink. Blink.* “Which Walmart?”

“OUR Walmart. South Knoxville. Tan building, great big orange Home Depot letters across the front?”

His eyes clear.

“Oh yeah. Let me call them.”

“Sorry for blinking at you, Amy,” I call over my shoulder as he steps outside to read the model number off.

“Did they have it?” I asked when he came back in.

“Yeah.”

“Did you get a Southerner?”

“Yeah.”

I sigh & go back to my book.