Once in a while your life takes a shift, makes a change so colossal you can never look at things quite the same way again. Think of the telephone, the radio, the television, the Internet.
Such an event may be happening to me soon: I may need a new vehicle. It may be time for me to sell my pickup.
That may not sound overwhelming, but it represents a life change that is devastating and profound. Because for the last nine years in this vast and confusing world, I have known who I was; I have had a role to play.
I was the guy with the pickup.
Buying a hot water heater? Call me. I'll go with you, load it up, hustle it home and get it on your porch. If you're feeling generous, give me a six-pack, and we'll be square. But really there's no charge. Swingset? I'm on my way. In fact, I'll come on in for dinner afterwards if what you're having sounds good.
And on and on. Moving a doghouse? That won't fit in the back seat of your Civic