In Which the Universe Circles Me, Pointing Its Finger and Laughing

I dropped my mug--my favorite mug, the mug that changed my habits in mugdom--this morning and the head broke off. I was crushed.

I am so taking it to Starbucks and asking for a refund. Because they do not understand how important this mug is to me. For the first time in my life I was carrying around a mug, making sure I had it, carrying it to the coffee shop on walks with Titan. I rinsed it out every night. I CARED for it. Sometimes I even talked to it. (Not really.)

And I am not letting go easily.

Also, I am without coffee. I fear for any Starbucks employee who tells me I can't exchange it today.

Speaking of tales from customer service, several days ago as I was moving in, I decided, "What would look really good against this kitchen wall, this big empty space between a high built-in shelf and a lower built-in countertop, is Pegboard. A big sheet of pegboard that I can hang my pots and pans from. I will go and get some."

Little did I know that apparently pegboard is nearly IMPOSSIBLE to get. I did make the mistake of not calling around first, I guess, but how was I to know that pegboard is a legally controlled substance?

I went to a hardware store first. It was completely empty, especially of workers, I could have walked off with anything in the store. A mouse skeleton may have sat in one corner. Finally I tracked someone down by following their footprints in the dust.

Me: "Excuse me. Do you have pegboard?"
Troll of a Shop Worker: "What?"
Me: "Pegboard."
ToaSW: "What's that?"
Me: "You know, pegboard? The board with lots of little holes drilled in at regular intervals?"
ToaSW: *Blank Look*
Me: "You know, THIS stuff! That you have RIGHT here in your display, that things are clearly hanging from?"
ToaSW: "Ohhh. Oh. No."
Me: (very patiently) "Okay. Do you know who MIGHT have pegboard?"
ToaSW: "Uh...a lumberyard?"

I wanted to ask him how the pegboard in his own displays had appeared. Was it magic? Surely you must have gotten it from somewhere?--but I decided that would be an exercise in futility and moved on to the lumberyard.

Lumberyard guys, once they made me stand around in the cold for awhile to prove I was serious, were very nice. I fought my way through a crowd of old guys drinking stale coffee from styrofoam cups and asked for pegboard.

Quicker, Smarter Store Worker: "Yes, we carry it. Eighth-inch or quarter-inch?"
Me: "I'm going to hang all my pans from it, so...quarter-inch."
QSSW: "Oh!"
Me: "What?"
QSSW: "You know...they have POT RACKS, now. Like in kits."

I looked at him, discerned that he was serious, and refrained my first, second, and third reactions.

Me (kindly): "Yes, I know. But I don't have the right kind of space for it. I don't have an island or a sink with a lot of space over it, and my ceilings are too high..."

I trailed off, noticing his look of confusion. I could see him in the store, buying a pot rack, and it said, "Pot Rack" on it, and that was exactly what he was going to do with it, hang his pots on it! What was the problem?

Me: "Just give me the pegboard. I think it will work great."

And it does, thankyouverymuch. Humph.