Dear Home Depot: Thank you for living just down the street from me.

Here's why I am cool. I worked for ELEVEN HOURS today purchasing, loading, painting, cutting, nailing, and caulking the new baseboards for my kitchen. I also put two coats of sealer on the grout. If you blindfolded me and turned me around thirty times I could still point you to the paint section and the lumber aisle at Home Depot.

Here's why I am not cool. In the 17 visits I have made to Home Depot in the last week I have only worn something besides my pajamas once. And that was worse, because my overalls, orange shirt and orange hat made me look like the long lost cousin of Mario and Luigi. Also interfering with my cool factor is my tendency to yell and throw things when my 13th attempt to cut a perfect 45 degree angle with a saw that is as efficient as a dull nail file goes awry. It's probably best that my children were at school most of the day. I said some things. Unfortunately, the family who lives behind me and homeschools their 8 children were not spared. "Children!" their mother barks to snap their attention back to their math instead of the flying miter box in the sky. She explains how the phrase "I am woman, hear me roar" was not intended to be taken quite so literally.

Finally I realized that the only thing that could save me (and perhaps the neighbors) were those three magic words: electric. miter. saw. I made some calls and managed to borrow one from a friend and I am telling you, the electric miter saw could not be a better friend if it took my calls and remembered my birthday. The baseboards are done. Oven is out of my dining room, refrigerator is out of my family room, and we will no longer have to eat breakfast at the table in the middle of the living room. I have my kitchen and sanity back. Perhaps I should make some cookies and deliver them to the neighbors.