Cogs can think.

Some people have ‘wtf’ moments, others have ‘aha!’ moments. I do have the occasional wtf moment, and my aha! moments are usually about three weeks later than average. In addition, I have a third type of moment, the ‘wait, what?’ moment.

I don’t like garden centres. Mildly put. It probably stems from my inability to take of anything green, and my fear of small moving things with legs. When I still lived with my parents, I’d get total passive-aggressive over any chore related to our garden, which, after years of trying to get me to do anything in the garden, finally made my parents stop giving me garden-related chores.

My mother’s birthday is coming up tomorrow (56), and she wanted something from the garden centre - a specific garden centre a few towns west from here. I had never been to this one before, and from the start, it looked a little different. There was something about the entrance that just made it unfit for a garden centre. I soon found out why: this was the Ikea of garden centres. They had set out a path from product group to product group, and you were forced to see and look at everything - the magic Ikea trick that makes you come home with three Lack tables, two Benno CD closets, and a Billy when all you set out to buy was a Billy.

My normal coping strategy for the garden centre visit didn’t work here. Usually, I just RUN RUN RUN, hoping to bump into the right product. When found, I RUN RUN RUN to the register, pay, and then RUN RUN RUN to my car. And cry. Not this time. I was forced to find my way through the maze, and contrary to Ikea, they didn’t have the sneaky shortcuts that make you skip sections. I. Saw. Everything.

And then IT happened.

I had already found my mother’s gift right at the entrance, and as I made my way through the maze, I saw a bunch if differently sized garden pots, in red - and then it happened. I had a thought. In a garden centre. I had a thought IN A GARDEN CENTRE. That’s so not right. I am supposed to be totally numb and mindless in a garden centre. That’s how god intended it, that’s the status quo. And I broke it.

That looks rather nice, I thought, I want that.

I wanted something from a garden centre. I held the red pot in my hand, and it wasn’t until I put it back down again that it hit me that I had broken the status quo. From then on, it all went downhill. I continued my struggle through the maze, encountered a pretty girl but totally ignored her in my slight panic. I arrived at the indoor section, only to encounter a whole section dedicated to red glass vases, dishes, and similar things that men shouldn’t have thoughts about. And again my thoughts were along the lines of I WANT THAT I WANT THAT.

The status quo has been broken. It’s not going to be long now. Keep an eye on your mail box, you can expect a wedding invitation soon. And a birth announcement. And then I come to visit you in our Opel Zafira with my fed up wife washed out in the passenger seat and three crying kids in the back. And a rental caravan for a vacation to France.

Wait, what?