The housewares section of Snow’s Home and Garden in Orleans, Massachusetts has all the winning qualities of a glue trap.  I thought I would never leave.

I managed to find my way out of their model train exhibit, their toy soldier display, and I was even able to claw myself away from their lawn furniture section.  What madness is this, I thought, eyes watering and wallet throbbing.

Pool toys?  Sure!  Plastic plates?  Why not!  Eleven yards of red-checkered tablecloth?  You betcha!  They had…everything.  Somewhere in the distance, I saw plants.  They looked…nice.

I thought I was free and clear when everything went quiet.

“What’s this, Daddy?”

“That’s…a juicer.”

“It’s a stick with a pointy star thing on the tip.”

“You poke fruit with it and twist.  That makes the juice come out.”

“Couldn’t you just, you know, squeeze the fruit?”

“I guess.  But this is, well, faster.”

“Neat!  How about this thing?”

“That’s a…a…”

“Honey, we need one of those.”

It was a box grater. My wife reached across my body and pulled it off the shelf.

“Gosh, it looks kind of sharp.  I don’t know.”

“Don’t be a baby.  Look, and they have one of those silvery gloves you can wear to avoid getting cut.  It’s perfect.”

I did the only noble thing.  I took both items and smiled.

“When we’re grating cheese can I sing like Michael Jackson?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

Ultimately, it was the kids who saved me.  Some deep-rooted instinct told them how to weave past the shelves of scented candles and puzzles to the register, and they led me there before leaving the store and leaving me alone with the register lady, ringity-ring.

“Would you like a bag?”

“You betcha.”

“That’s some glove there.  Why would you wear that?”

“Because cutting your fingers is not fun, that’s why.”

“Oh.  Makes sense.  Have a nice day.”

Which is why I now have a box grater.  It’s a heck of a box grater.  Do you have a box grater?  Perhaps you should consider getting a box grater.  And a glove so you can use it without cutting your fingers.  Like I used to.  Every.  Damn.  Time.