The right tool for one job, at least
Recently, I decided that it was time to buy the right tool for the job. In this case, removing the fancy lock nut covers on the RV. Someone had posted a hint on social media, and I had checked with the only relative that actually runs a tool store. It wasn’t just a rumour, the tool has a name and a part number.
After checking Amazon on both sides of the border, and doing some mental math, I went ahead and ordered. Ignore the price, I said to myself. You will only order this once, logically. Today, the delivery car left a bag hanging on the front door knob. And hang on to your hats, people; it was the right tool for the job. I did a quick test, before stowing my newest acquisition away in that funny jack locker under the dash. There, just in case. In a way, I never want to use it, but I am better prepared than last season.
It’s a small town thing: the daughter of my cousin’s granddaughter (are you following me here, or do I need to draw a tree?) is also the g-granddaughter of a friend from high school. Take that, world. I’m finally old enough to have complicated relations. No more of that simple stuff: my sister’s daughter. I’m in the big time, now. From here on, any conversation with anyone connected to me can get into the high math formulae of being old and related. Now to let the world learn about my place in it. Or not. I’m rather shy about such things. I guess I can tell my sisters, and let them do the “heavy hauling”.
