I’ve somehow picked up a really bad habit. I’ve taken up winking at people. And animals, too. Anyone’s game. In my defense, it’s not done in a flirty way, but rather an “I get you, sweetie!” kind of way. You know- conspiratorial winking. However, I could see how it could be misconstrued as flirty, as it was yesterday by the young man working at the Home Depot.
It started with Caleb. Caleb and I have secrets, secrets that I will never divulge, even under great duress. Sometimes, Caleb and I allude to these secrets in public (public= in the presence of Ben, Daniel, and Ella), and when we do this alluding, we wink at one another.
Caleb LOVES to wink. He has since he learned how to about a year ago. Ben loves to wink, too, though he hasn't figured out how yet and only manages to blink really, really hard. But Caleb and I, to boost Ben’s self-esteem, assure him he’s a great winker. And then we wink at each other. Conspiratorially.
I’m not sure how many people I’ve winked at in the past month. I started becoming self-aware about a week ago, and I’m really trying to curb the habit. Of course, since it’s a pretty established habit, it’s been difficult to quit it cold turkey. Winking has become spontaneous, like a tick. I’ll be talking to someone, we’ll share a laugh, and before you can say Bob’s your uncle, I’ve winked. Conspiratorially, of course.
I went to Home Depot to get a doohickey that reaches down into drains to grab hair. They sell said doohickey for under $2.00 right next to the Drano. Initially, I was wandering around the plumbing aisle with its long and intimidating tubing, looking very out of place. A Home Depot employee spotted me and thought, “A woman in the plumbing aisle? She must be lost! I will help her!”
I told him I was looking for a thinger I could stick down drains. That’s literally what I said. A thinger I could stink down drains. And he knew exactly what I was talking about. He led me to the doohickey and said, “Is this the thinger you were referring to?”
I grinned. “This is the thinger I was looking for!” I said. Then I winked at him.
And let me tell you that if I were you, I would not wink at helpful, slightly chubby young men working at the Home Depot. They might put their hand on your arm and ask if there’s anything else they can do for you. And you, startled, might take a big step backward and say something like: “Oh, that’ll do it, sir! Yuppers!” Because you’re a dork. And he’ll smile, wanly, and walk away.
The thinger you can stick down drains worked out great. I pulled out miles of black, gunky hair, and had fun doing it, too. Clearing the shower drain gave me a sense of accomplishment I’ve never felt before. Except last week, when I fixed the garbage disposal. And the week before, when I re-wired Daniel’s battery-operated car.
Soon, I’ll be right at home in the Home Depot’s plumbing aisle.