I got an email from my brother in Arkansas: there is a birthday gift from him waiting at my local Lowes. Okay, I'm intrigued. For days I wracked my brain trying to guess what he could have possibly thought up. Last night I finally made it there. I gave the woman at the customer service counter the order number.
"What is it?"
"I don't know. It's a gift. For my birthday."
She looks it up on the computer then turns around with eyes wide.
"CHEMICAL GLOVES? That's your birthday gift?" Laughter ensued.
Then I remembered mentioning in a recent email that I had a glove failure and dyed my hand black. Never again! Thanks Russ.
