I am getting a neighbourhood house ready for rental for the absentee owners. The renters moved to another province in a hurry and left more debris than a Tennessee tornado. I absconded with a few things I thought I could use (I was wrong) and gathered up all the rest for Habitat for Humanity to pick up on Wednesday. When the charity’s Restore truck showed up, I told the men they were welcome to take anything they wanted. They wanted a lot. Locusts have taken longer to clean off a wheat field and left more behind that the friendly Restore crew. They would have taken my cap if it hadn’t been sealed to my head by my hoodie. A toothpick fell out of my mouth and I haven’t seen it since.
One item I left in the garage was a big plastic scrub bucket on wheels complete with mop. The Restorers were not the first people to set eyes on this prize as several visitors over the past while have asked me about the future of bucket and mop. I doubt, in fact, that a ’58 Corvette convertible would have attracted the same level of interest. Each time I betrayed no interest in the bucket and yet it failed to roll away. As they hauled off every single item but my cap, the Restore guys paused by the bucket and mop and asked, “Are you giving this away?” as if only a crazy man would. “It’s yours,” I announced but the glee they betrayed as they loaded it on the truck made me nervous. Had I made some sort of horrible mistake? Nah. It was just a bucket.
Today, two days later, I went to the driveway to wash my car and it suddenly came to me: That wash bucket on wheels would make my life more complete than a month of Caribbean vacations. As my mind dwelled on this fact, the enormity of my loss crowded out every other thought and the mission was underway. I had to get that bucket back.
I hopped in the as-yet-unwashed car and raced across town to the Restore outlet. Bursting through the doors like the desperate man my three-minute drive to the place had made me, I searched the facility from rooms to rafters but no bucket could be found. Some wise person had already bought it, no doubt, and was at home enjoying life. I once had a car stolen which was almost worse than this.
I left the building and walked despondently towards my filthy vehicle. It was then I noticed a door at the back of the building and a sign, “Staff Only.” The only thing a bucket-searching man can do with a door like that is go through it and I did. My eyes surveyed the somewhat dark scene but there in a corner with a halo around it (sun streaming in through a skylight, I guess) was the bucket. I stood in awe of it for a few seconds. Only the site of a famous babe in a manger might have equalled the glory of what I beheld.
I approached it and realized it did not have a pricetag. Had it already been pressed into service by Restore and was that the reason for the Restore pick up crew’s obvious joy? Who can say? I picked up the bucket, mop still inside it, and crept out of the staff area more quietly than the stealthiest cat burglar. I was expecting to be detained by a phalanx of Restore guards but none showed. I took bucket and mop to the front counter and explained that I had donated them just two days before and how I now realized what a horrible error in judgment that had been.
“How much?” I asked the woman behind the counter and I found myself falling in love at first sight with her when she said, with a smile, “Just take it.” I left the woman behind (regretfully) and drove home with my treasures and realized I would not have been happier if my car was jammed with the priceless contents of King Tut’s Tomb.
I washed the car when I got home. The bucket made its debut at my place and it performed its function flawlessly.
And here is my moral, keeping in mind it is offered by a man whose moral code allows him to steal things from a charity: Things worth having are worth the trouble of becoming a temporary staff member at Habitat for Humanity. Remember that. I will remember that from now on till the day comes when I kick the habit. (I would have used the word bucket again but I couldn’t see how it would fit in that sentence.)
©2013 Jim Hagarty
