It seemed like a simple task: pick up some odds and ends to finish painting a nursery for my yet-to-be-born daughter. We needed razor blades, rubbing alcohol, and a can of white spray paint. I drove to the neighborhood Walgreens, which seems to be on every other city block. Sure enough, they had the razor blades and alcohol, but no spray paint to be found.

I asked the roving Walgreen's clerk if they had a can of white spray paint, and his bubbly expression dimmed. He said "No," and instantly walked away as if I had the plague. It was so quick that I didn't know what else to do, so I called out "Thank you!" He then stopped and said "Try Wal-mart." The lady at the counter said that the dollar store had them. I decided to take her advice.

Off to the dollar store, but which one? We have The Dollar Store, Family Dollar & Dollar General. By the way, most things for sale in the dollar store cost much more than a dollar, but true to form, they did have several items that were one hundred pennies.

I went to the nearest store, which was The Dollar Store. I grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol which cost a dollar. Hey, that's pretty accurate, except that a bottle of rubbing alcohol usually costs less than that. No point in haggling, I was just trying to get this task done. I looked around for spray paint, but to no avail. I asked the cashier, and she gave me a dismayed look, as if I asked for a forbidden item. Sort of like shouting Marijuana in a head shop, or Fire in a theater. Remain calm, everyone. All is well.

She suggested the Big Lots next to them. She didn't really know. She didn't buy that sort of thing. She sold me the overpriced rubbing alcohol and sent me on my way. I checked the Big Lots next door, and they gave me the same scowl. They did know the correct answer, though: Family Dollar.

Off I drove another mile. It's amazing how many dollar stores are so close together. I went in and confidently asked about a can of white spray paint. The lady spoke broken English and said "Don' know. Aisle 4?" It was actually on aisle 3, but that was close enough. It was behind a cage which required manager assistance. Unlike the other stores, they did not scowl at me. They opened the cage, sold me the can, and I even splurged for a couple white T-shirts. A man needs a comfort purchase for such efforts.

So there you go. Razor blades from Walgreens, which you can slit your wrists and kill yourself. No problem. Rubbing alcohol from The Dollar Store, which you can drink and make yourself really sick (and was overpriced). No problem. A can of white spray paint from Family Dollar, locked up and requiring assistance to purchase (and the cause of many scowls). A minor adventure.

We all know why, right? I mean, as many bad looks as I got, it seemed like everybody knew why I would want a can of white spray paint, but no one even asked. As it turns out, there is a hanging wicker light shade in the nursery. It's brown and doesn't really match the purply-pink and white colors that the room now has. It's attached to wires and light and would be very tedious to take down. My mom said a can of white spray paint should do the job.

Everyone assumed I was going to graffiti the town, run around tagging my little symbol here and there, or just make little white polka-dots on property that wasn't mine. These spray cans are dangerous. Of course, I could be trying to get high by huffing the fumes (although you need the silver kind for that). It's right up there with model glue or gasoline. Model glue is hard to come by. Who buys models these days? Gasoline is easy, but it'll cost much more than the old days. Or maybe, quite possibly, I needed the can to paint something at my house. Still, the precautions are in place for everyone's safety.

Yes, yes, I know. I know. Why make a big deal about a can of spray paint? Better to stop one child from graffiti access than appease your so-called American-entitled consumer convenience. Come on, Jungle, get with the program!

First off, I've been avoiding the program for years. Second, anyone who wants to graffiti will find a way to get their precious paint, locked cage or not. Third, why does everyone have to assume the worst when I ask for common items? Why not ask me what I need it for? Why not get to know each other? Why not crack a joke about tagging with me?

Alas, it is not that way. Nor will it be that way. It is what it is. Just another small example of our own paranoia that I wanted to share with you.

By the way, the nursery looks pretty cute.

Chris Jungle once bought red spray paint to make homemade T-Shirts.