Stupid Should Hurt

Image may contain: text that says 'What's happened to this younger generation Charlie Brown? It all started with bicycle helmets, and now it's everyone gets a trophy", Kids don't know what it's like to feel pain when they do something stupid. Stupid should hurt.'

Yesterday, because I rushed it even though I should know better, I stapled myself. It’s fascinating how it works. The staple coming out of my pneumatic staple gun, goes into my finger -not all the way, but deep enough to make an impact and then…nothing.

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WRATH OF THE HAG

Oh thank you, thank you. That was the laugh of the day. I have my own tools, some I need for my job, others I just have for….well, I will find out one day. When I was young I wanted a clothes-wall-rack installed in the bathroom of our shoe-box aka apartment -a cloth rack is a “must have” for every Austrian-Italian. I waited patiently for weeks, months…nobody hung it.

It stood there in the corner of our shoe-box for months. My husband had all kind of explanations why he didn’t have the time, so did everybody else. Finally I had enough, I went out and bought me a drill and screws. Go figure…a drill doesn’t come with instructions -why is that? I measured, marked the location of the holes and started drilling…and drilling…and drilling. I was determined and it showed, our wall looked like Swiss cheese, but I hung that damn thing. I read Marilyn’s post and laughed hard. I had to reblog, it’s priceless.

Serendipity Seeking Intelligent Life on Earth

I used to do stuff, but my son grew up and decided I was incompetent. He stole all my tools (which he called “borrowing”). Since he never intended to return any of them, I feel he and I need to reassess our language interface. I have managed to save a lightweight Dremel. I keep it hidden in the linen closet. I’m pretty sure it’s safe there. I have a hammer stowed in the silver chest where no one but me goes.

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I don’t have a screwdriver, staple gun, tape, glue, or nails. Nor thumb tacks. The son who took my tools is too busy to do the little jobs I could do and Garry is a 10-thumbs kind of guy. I knew that when we got married. I never expected him to be Mr. Fixit.

In our house, what gets broken, stays broken. Forever and ever, world without end. Limited as I am…

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