Buddy Can You Spare A Nail?

Today my daughter asked me to help her hang pictures in her new apartment. I was thrilled. Either she was really desiring my picture-hanging skills, or just throwing me a bone. Win-win for me either way, as I really like spending time with her. Molly organized her bookshelves while I tackled the walls. I was in The Zone, and my secret measuring process was cruising along. I had two metal Ikea bulletin boards to hang that had no hardware. Seriously? Ikea items always have extras, sometimes even little tools. This time, though? Bupkiss. Molly Googled the nearest hardware store, and I set out to buy 4 nails. The hardware store was one I had driven by before. I had always thought it was a closed down, abandoned business. It looked pretty grotty. The door was open, and a strange guy was in the doorway talking to the store proprietor. I was on a mission, and would not be thwarted. I said “Excuse me” and moved into the store. And then I stepped back at least 60 years. This store had junk piled almost to the ceiling. There were no windows, and the only light came through the front door. It was like being in a cave, the cave of a hoarder grizzly bear who had a fetish for bins and boxes of rusty, dusty junk. I asked where to find nails, and Mr. Storekeeper led the way toward the back. We had to turn sideways and tippy-toe down a mini-aisle between two rows of lawn mowers to get to the nails. The man showed me different nails by reaching into several dirty boxes. All the nails were loose, and seemingly used. Or maybe they had just been sitting around for decades getting filthy and rusty. Anyway, I bought 6 nails (2 extra for possible hammering mishaps), and made it out alive and still relatively clean. Out into the sunshine and back to the 21st century. I felt like I needed a shower but had achieved my goal and it only cost me .15 cents. Prices from 60 years ago... maybe it wasn’t a bad experience after all.