Anyone for Applesauce?

There are times when the difference between living in an urban or suburban area, and living on the edge of a very small rural community, are thrown into sharp relief.  For example, you can't pop down to the local store and be there and back in ten minutes.  This becomes quite irritating when *insert big box store name here* continue to import shoddy goods from China, have customers return them because they don't work, then proceed to simply put them back on the shelf.  In the same packaging, but stuck down with tape.  With the same price as if they were new and unused.  To my mind, this is fraud.

So, we made the hour and a half trip to Home Depot (there, I said it), bought five puck-style LED lights to illuminate the dim corner of the living room so that we could read.  Then we travelled an hour and a half back home, whereupon Paul wired in the lights.  Of the five, only one worked.  Now, do you think we're going to make another 3 hour round trip just to take them back?  Of course not.

The other puck-style LED light that we purchased to go over the kitchen sink (so I could actually see to wash the dishes) was also faulty; it worked okay, but the on/off switch wire is loose and therefore you have to jiggle it to get the light to stay on.  Not to mention the Philips LED light bulb which doesn't work.  Not to mention the probably fifty other items we've bought from Home Depot that either didn't work or were broken or missing parts.  Once again, an example of the big box store mentality - buy everything cheap from China, flog it out at a profit, and who cares if it works or not because if the customer returns we can just stick it back on the shelf again, and some other mug will buy it.

So, we're now stuck with a bunch of puck lights that don't work, and which we can't return because they've been wired in.  Nice.

The other thing we've noticed since we've been here is that women are persona non grata in hardware stores and builder's merchants, as well as auto mechanic shops and welding establishments.  In Cape Breton, you see, women are not supposed to visit these places.  This has proved quite baffling to my husband, who is used to me accompanying him everywhere.  It was only after experiencing the hostile atmosphere when I was present, in contrast to the air of chummy goodwill when I waited in the car, that we realized the awful truth: women in Cape Breton are supposed to stay home and make applesauce. 

As I am, currently, home (and making applesauce) I do have to make it clear that I have no problem with this.  I have no desire to return to the corporate cellblock, and am, in fact, perfectly content to wait in the car.  When it does become an issue, however, is when my husband is away and I have to speak to these guys over the phone.  Oh, they speak to me alright.  Arrangements are made, appointments scheduled, work is booked.  The only problem is, nobody shows up.  It's like I'm invisible, even over the phone.  But as soon as Paul gets on the phone to them, what a difference!  I'm very glad that I do have a husband, because a woman alone out here would get nothing accomplished.  Except maybe, one heck of a lot of applesauce.



Puck lights - only one out of five worked.



Applesauce, anyone?