My primary memory of this day may end up being the complex process of assembling bar stools using the horribly cheap Allen wrench that came from the manufacturer. The job was so difficult that I plan on putting it on my resume for sure. After about 30 minutes, I was running out to our small carport "shed" to find some additional washers and a little bit of faith. In order to find them, I had to dig through the remnants of the supplies left over from the previous owner of the house. These treasures are all in oyster and caviar jars that were historically re-purposed to hold nails, bolts, washers, etc. I find these small jars completely fascinating.
Unfortunately, I was never able to find what I needed. In the end, I had just about given up until my wife came home from work, settled me down and found a better tool. My father would have been proud - one of his constant pieces of wisdom was the need to have the "right tool for the job."
2 comments:
So your wife was the "right tool for the job"?
That's one way to look at it. But I was specifically referring to the screwdriver that she took the time t find. Without her input, the bar stools would be on their way back to Canada.
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