How Inflation Hit Me At the Home Depot and What I Did About It
A helpless rant on the rising cost of things
I’m going to rant. Please feel free to join me.
I love Home Depot.
I walk in, and it smells of testosterone and fun, insecticides, paint, and fresh cut wood. The store takes me to the hours I spent watching Tim Allen on Tool Time.
It’s always full of men, women, and the occasional kid, all loading carts with plants, fence material, plumbing supplies, and charcoal. Plus any of the other 35,000 items in inventory designed to fix, build or improve your surroundings.
Most people hold on to the adage that if a contractor can fix something around the house, it can be done as a self-improvement project at a fraction of their cost. In a hyperinflation economy, people find ways to save a few dollars.
My project this week is yard work. I do it myself with the occasional help of a teenage grandkid.
It takes me longer than it did a few years ago. As I age, the late spring heat in Southeast Texas is already brutal, so I take plenty of breaks and am in no hurry.
The other morning, I headed to Home Depot before getting started. I needed a spool of nylon string for my trimmer. Much to my surprise, the item I wanted to buy cost 30 percent more than last year.
Ouch.
Barcodes don’t lie. The lady at the checkout assured me I wasn’t crazy, indicating the bulk of merchandise had increased. I know all the usual things; shipping, labor, and manufacturing costs rose and drove retail prices up.
I forked over the money, knowing there was nothing I could do.
Buying the spool got me thinking about food costs, gas prices, and utility bills. They are out of control and depressing.
I know my complaining is trivial. I am a frugal spender by habit. That’s an excellent way of saying I’m cheap. Inflation continues its rampage, and I’m unsure when or if it will stop.
All I can do is cut back on expenses, shop more wisely, and stuff cash into a shoe box, which I know is not a good idea.
After a hard day of thinking about the economy and working in the yard, I ended the day with my usual indulgences; an $18 cigar and a few shots of single malt scotch. But doing so made me feel guilty until my friend in Costa Rica, who owns a small coffee plantation, told me about the rise in harvesting and coffee processing costs in a text message.
We should treat ourselves occasionally to those things we enjoy and deserve, regardless of price, and as long as we don’t make a habit of it. Doing so waives our right to complain.
I choose to stop complaining.
