Why is it whenever I go into my local home improvement store I attract everyone but a store employee to me? Today I schedule a leisurely trip to Lowe's to purchase a small decorative shelf for Jake's room. I arrive and make the two mile pilgrimage from the store entrance to the back left quadrant in search of the perfect shelf for my boy. Before me lies an isle with seemingly endless choices for me to peruse. The hallelujah chorus rings in my ear. It's a rainy Sunday morning at 10:00am and I figure I have the store to myself. I begin to shop.

Then it happens. Mind you, there are a total of 10 people in a 500,000 square foot warehouse and someone else just happens to be looking for the same shelf I am. Over my shoulder, standing in my blind spot, is a 70 year old man staring at the back of cranium frustrated at my very existence. "Excuse me," he says, as he reaches around me to pick up his new found treasure. Thirty seconds later his wife arrives and she herself seems to need to be in the same space I was occupying. I'm annoyed, but I press on with my shopping until another gentleman comes around the corner and starts eyeing the contemporary shelving units directly beside me. He slowly slides over into my personal space making sure that the more traditional decorative shelf wouldn't suit his needs better. "Excuse me," he says, and abruptly displaces me from my position. Five minutes ago I had 2,000 square feet of unoccupied isle all to myself. And now, it's as if the President has issued a national alert to the shortage of decorative shelving.

Because of the crowd on isle 12, I ended up on isle13 and I never bought a shelf for Jake. I did, however, remember we needed some trash bags for the kitchen. Conveniently located on isle 13, I grabbed some and headed home.