For those of you trying to do some last-minute shopping, I’m going to give you a little help. What Greg really, really needs for Christmas is a can of WD-40. Our house has terribly squeaky doors. I try not to use the bathroom in the middle of the night because I know the squeaking of the door will wake Greg.
Or maybe we have a severe mouse problem. I guess that’s a possibility, and Greg is just using the creaky hinges as a cover.
The men in my family are maniacal about WD-40. When I turned 16, my dad told me I needed two things in the trunk of my car at all times: duct tape and WD-40. Greg doesn’t share these feelings. I am living a life of dire WD-40 poverty. In fact, when people ride in the back of my car, they appear visibly alarmed when hearing the groan of the doors. They pause, waiting for the doors to drop off their creaking hinges. My car is like a 100-year-old man waking from a 28-hour nap in a deep freezer and trying to ease his achy body out of bed.
I’ve been trying for months to find a can of that magical grease, but I haven’t made it into an auto parts store yet, so no luck. Greg doesn’t seem to understand the urgency of the situation. Maybe I need a substitute. Butter?