It All Started in the Post Office Parking Lot

It dawned on us the other night that Madame Home Depot and I have known each other for almost 15 years. Three of which we spent attached at the hip, dodging shots at the local bar and trying to out talk each other in random and sundry other spots. The other years consist of frequent phone calls and her 4 trips to the B&B where she got exposed to chicken pox, demolition work, and car sickness....not all at the same time, of course. We like to dole those out special moments out over several extended periods of time. Keeps the freshness of the place exciting, you know...

Funny thing with Madame is that in the years we were working together in the Rockies, we had this inexplicable need to call each other every night before bed. Didn't matter if she was at her boyfriend's place or we had had a heavy night in the bars, we had to hear each other's voices so we could sleep peacefully, safe in the knowledge that we were loved. We talked every day, sometimes all day, cracking up over stupid stuff. Seriously, neither of us can remember what we really talked about but the laughter, that's been tattooed onto our souls.

She's seen me through thick and thin, this woman. She's listened to me whine, moan, and sing. She's known The Man almost as long as I have and is the only other woman who I know who can give it back to him like he needs. It's awesome knowing he loves her as much as I do.

Normally it's him who gets to spend time knocking things down, rebuilding, and chatting the day away with her but due to his flu/bronchitis/stress/life in general, I got to do all those things, not him. She and I have sanded plaster joints, painted undercoat, drank gallons of coffee, and laughed until our sides hurt. All it takes is one glance at her wry smile and I'm in stitches remembering why we were so inseparable all those years ago. (Just mention the words, "stamp collector" to either one of us and you'll see why...)

She's good, Madame Home Depot. One of the best people I've ever known. One who has reminded me that laughter is what I need. Every day and in large, large doses. Her visit has been a blessing and I ache from giggling.

Screw running. A half an hour of laughing, with tears streaming down my face, is all I'll ever need.

Thank you, MHD. I remember.