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"I need to go to Bunnings"

"I need to go to Bunnings*" is a term that evokes a rainbow of emotions in this house.  It's generally uttered about a quarter the way into one of Mr K's projects,  usually the project I have been cajoling him to do for an eternity.  He just gets started ... and then it happens..

"I need to go to Bunnings"

The responses can be any/all of those below:
  • Oh good, I need to go too
  • Oh, how long will you be?
  • Really?  I thought you only went yesterday and had all you needed?
  • What could you possibly need now? 
To which Mr K will reply any/all of the following
  • OK, you can come, but we need to leave NOW, no time to change and brush your hair
  • I wont be long.  (oh this is the biggest fib this side of the black stump)
  • I did go yesterday, but have found that I need a different screw/drillbit/glue/you-name-it
  • Well, (and you need to sit down for this one) I have to cut the thingummy at a precise angle and the saw I have doesn't do what I need.  I need to buy a new Wizz-Bang-Saw, but I can use this for lots of other things that need doing.  (It's worth noting at this point that Mr K has a tool shed filled with every conceivable tool that were bought in just this way.).  I will just go to Bunnings and price them. (hahah yeah right)

Here is a typical Bunnings experience with Mr K.  (grab a coffee, get comfortable, this may take a while) We have to firstly clear out the back of the ute, so that there is room for all the 'stuff'.  It's normally filled with things like Jerry cans, tool kits, an esky, camping chairs, drop sheets ... that all end up on my front porch and remain there for weeks on end.  Then we have to let the dog down gently as he LOVES the ute but cant go to Bunnings. 

Once we arrive, there is always a lot of the in-and-out word used while Mr K tries to park right near the front door despite the fact the car park is ALWAYS full.  I don't know why he even bothers to try to park so close, just accept we will have to walk a little bit, get warmed up for the three miles we will walk inside the shop.  I get out of the ute, stressed, embarrassed and usually very carefully, as he would have parked so close to the other car I have one inch to squeeze out.

I ask him if he has a list?  He looks at me strangely.  He replies that he only needs a few things, no need for a list, it's all in his head.  I have a choice as this juncture -
  1. I can go off to the garden section and potter about or
  2. I can go with him, keep him focused, help him to find things that are in his head, give up that idea, and go off to the garden section and potter about.
I used to try gently encouraging him to hurry up by saying the longer I am in the garden section, the more things I buy - but he doesn't care and I have now run out of things to buy! So after I have read every plant label, looked at the different water fountains, checked out all the variations in paving stones, gone to the loo, sat in each outdoor setting, played with the secateurs, got a drink, gone to the loo again - I go looking for him. 

He will be still in the screws aisle, with a contemplative look on his face.  I enthusiastically ask if he is ready? (knowing full well he won't be).  He says he had to go to the tool section to get a drill bit that would match the screws and now he can't get the right screw to fit the size of the drill bit and will need to go back to the tool section to get another drill bit ..... aaahhhhh get me the hell out of this!

And this is only the first thing he needs.  I decide that at this point I need to get him moving and on track and I have run out of things to look at, besides the paint section. We go to get pool salt.  He reads every label, wonders if he can't get it 50cents cheaper at the pool shop, wonders how many bags he needs, then remembers that he did buy a few bags last time and where did he put them?  OK. So we don't need salt?  What next?  He says he needs a washer.  We head towards the plumbing section.  On the way he sees an air compressor on display.  He decides he might need one of these one day.  He stops to read the box.

I groan and go and look at the paint colours. 

Two hours later, we finally leave.  Of course we have to stop for a sausage sizzle - we both need the sustenance.

Maybe you think I am exaggerating or overreacting?

My sons will be testimony to this your Honour, as would my Dad.

My sons - they have recently been doing up a house of their own.  Mr K has been asked (reluctantly) to accompany them to help select what they need for their job.  They know they will enter a time warp and lose a few hours.  Many times I have received text messages from the distressed lads, asking if they will ever get out of there.  I assure them they will, but the world will be a different place when they do.

My Dad - he is a real worker and a real lets-just-get-on-with-the-job man.  If he comes over to help do a project, and the first part is a trip to Bunnings - he looks at me to help, he nails Mr K down and they write a list, he tells Mr K that they need to get in and get out as 'times a wasting'.  I get a distressed phone call from Dad after an hour - I tell him to go find a comfortable chair and a drink as he has a long way to go yet.

Of course, Mr K will deny all this, hurt that we all think this of him ... but the facts are the facts.


*  For those who are not from the West, Bunnings is like Masters - which we have just got here on the West Coast as well, and we all in live in fear the day Mr K says, " I need to go to Masters".



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