![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxuM9McHUigvYqqJLX-7uBVXLIpnbMjDUp-_v6T9AANlu8pBhrSMm8Qg79Yc-iNxuImJVI4jA5EzN2NyilXX_Csjv16_JegEyztdeXCUVie92kfUfH-c1WtbbqLFSa7vR4r58mQ/s200/home_depot_steve.jpg)
My heart skipped a beat. Something was clearly amiss. I hate Home Depot -- possibly more than KMart (can you say Big Bland?), but then again, Home Depot smells better. (I enjoy sawdust.)
"NEVER," I spat out, in probably the same tone I'd use if someone accused me of Communist sympathies during the Red Scare.
This is a really long way of saying somebody counterfeited my credit card and used it to buy goods at Home Depot in Florida. And I can't help wondering what they bought with it. Shears? Lumber? A set of French doors?
Because if I blew a few hours of my day to counterfeit a credit card, my thoughts wouldn't approach anything resembling, "HELL YES! Now I can fund all those repairs I need to make."
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