Testing my Mainehood.

The food selection where we moved from in Maine had decreased our expectations and appetite. Who hasn't fucking heard of hanger steak? Apparently, everyone who sells food in the greater Bangor area. We were starving for good food when we arrived in Providence. And we found it. Yes. Yes. There are not one, but two Whole Foods in town. But to be honest, we haven't even set foot in either of them since our arrival. It's just not necessary. Food is everywhere. And it is good. And good food means lots and lots of grilling.

In fact, we've grilled every night for three weeks. Most of the time it's glorious, but if daddy doesn't have his shit together ... we be eating at 10pm. A little late for weeknight chow. So late, that we haven't had the energy to watch the final two episodes of Mad Men. That's just fucked up.

A few months ago, while visiting our favorite people. I noticed they had made the switch to gas—surely I made fun of those lazy sissies. Well, last night we too decided it was time to switch to gas. Why not? Nothing wrong with testing a bit of my Mainehood so we can eat at a reasonable hour. How was I to know that it would test my Mainehood more than just a little?

I worked at an old hardware store for years. That old hardware store is where I met my wife and is also the reason that the lil' man is named what he's named. This is why a piece of me died today when I had to go to a store which shall not be named. I fucking hate those stores! There are so many reasons ... Ughh. This is not where this is supposed to go.

I was at a big fucking store buying a grill. So many choices and nobody that fucking knows anything about them. I'm usually pretty decisive, but these stores get me all wound up. I called the wifey at work.

me: Hi honey. What do you think? Infrared or regular?
wifey: I dunno. What's the difference?
me: The infrared is the latest thing. I think most restaurants use infrared grills now.
wifey: Well, get that one then.
me: Ok. Two burner or three?
wifey: I don't know. Get the bigger one.
me: Shhwing!

How many wifey's say, "Get the more expensive, bigger grill?" I got it, but there was no way it was fitting into the Tiguan. No problem.  I'm from Maine. I shouldn't be buying assembled shit anyway. Besides, it will give the lil' man and I something to do this afternoon—it will be fun.

me: You sell these in a box?
idiot: Yep.
me: How long do they take to assemble?
idiot: Ummm. Like 20 minutes.
me: I'll take one in the box.

He brings the box to the counter.

me: Damn. How much does that thing weigh?
idiot: Ummm. It says 140lbs on the side of the box.

I bust a nut hoisting the box into the car. The hatch won't close. No problem. I've tied down a hatch or two in Maine. I search the hatch for something to secure a rope to. Nothing. What the fuck? Who designed this vehicle? Didn't they think of this? Seriously, I have to settle for the rear wiper? Yep. I'm now that yuppie asshole who secures his hatch by tying a rope to the rear wiper. "Hope it doesn't rip off."

My drive home is through the hood. And I mean the hood. It's not a long drive, but it ain't pretty. The whole time, all I can think about is that full propane tank sitting in the seat next to my lil' man. What the fuck am I doing? Why didn't I just pay the 20$ to have them deliver an assembled grill? Oh, that's right. I'm from Maine.

We make it home at 4pm. Shit. We've got at least an hour before mommy gets home. No problem. I'm from Maine. I bust the other nut lifting the 140lb box out of the car. What is wrong with me? Three weeks ago I'd have put this thing on my shoulder. It was all I could do to roll this huge square box into the backyard. Phew! Made it.

Out of nowhere, a thunderstorm strikes. The sky opens. It pours.

That's okay. I'm from Maine. I can build shit in the rain. The lil' man and I unpack the boxes and start building. Step 4 requires 2 people. No problem. I'm from Maine. I'm more than two average people. The instructions get wet and I can't read them. No problem. I'm from Maine. I can figure this shit out. I complete the test at 6:30 and contemplate what the fuck is wrong with Mainers.

Now it's time to test the Rhode Islanders. Will the grill still be in our backyard when we wake up tomorrow?