I made a little trip up to (what passes for) the hardware store today. Needed some minor item for the house. Had to be a minor item, since I’ve recently begun slipping into my “senior” years (according to some), I don’t tackle anything more than “minor” these days. I said “what passes for” because it’s different from hardware stores of my youth.
Having spent some of my younger years (passing myself off) as a carpenter and/or a plumbers “helper”. Back in those younger days it took a lengthy “apprenticeship” (several years) before you could call yourself either. Maybe it still does today, but I’m no longer interested. I’ve completed (and left incomplete) my share of home “projects”.
Either way, I didn’t spend enough time at becoming either to “graduate” into actually being one? But I managed to fool some people (employers) along the way. Like lotsa guys, I spent a small fortune on the required “tools of the trade(s)”.
But somehow along that way it seems I’ve misplaced some of the requisite items needed to do actual “work”? But I’m not referrin’ to the actual physical tools needed to accomplish real work, as “missing”.
Down in my cellar I could lay hands on a chest (I built) full of carpenters tools. But my hands don’t seem to fit most of ‘em any longer? I could also drag out a box of plumbers tools, complete as in the days when I played at being a plumber. But my wrists will no longer rotate to clean a pipe fitting. My back can’t lift commodes into place anymore (luckily, I can still sit on a one pretty good). On top of all this, my nose refuses to get involved with anything that threatens unpleasant odors.
The mechanics tools I formerly used to “tune-up” (remember that?) my cars, lie unused next to the ones my father once regularly utilized (much more effectively than me). I can’t convince my back to straighten up if I lean over a car fender. The bifocals on my face don’t work through the “top” of the lenses on my specs. So, attempting to see into the dark recesses under a car hood is more trouble than it’s worth. We won’t even git into how averse my fingernails have grown to gittin’ grease under ‘em.
Nope, my “tool” failures are much closer. They effect the tools I was issued long before I ever started off on my many trips to the hardware stores to buy accessory ones.
For instance; My vision never was much at a distance, and lately movin’ in on things doesn’t help much? The strength in my grip has begun to slip. My legs don’t get into the “lift” mode anymore. My back won't stand behind me any longer. Though I might on occasion “listen in” under the hood of a buddies car (pretending) to help “diagnose” some problem? My ears lie to me so often, I don’t trust ‘em enough to offer up my opinion. On occasion I might, when I’m sure my listeners are smart enough not to listen?
I started off to tell ya about my trip to the hardware store.
First off, it’s way too big for walkin’ around in alone, without a compass an’ a canteen of water. I expect it had most anything you might use, as a “tradesman”. If you didn’t expire before you completed the trek back up front to the..., “Self-Service” checkout counter(s).
Self-service?! Shoppin’ had worn me out...! Where’s my checkout person!? That d@#% computerized moneychanger argued with me, ‘til it won (I was tired). I left my stuff on the floor next to it.
I Don’t Know About You..., When I gotta work that hard before I git to workin’? I’d rather not start.
Cal Teeple, founder of the Observational Cogitation Consortium is still often found three stools down. As well as at: www.wayneindependent.com/cal Or At: calteeple@gmail.com He may be ignored, accosted, or contacted in any of them.
|
|
|
Related Stories
I made a little trip up to (what passes for) the hardware store today. Needed some minor item for the house. Had to be a minor item, since I’ve recently begun slipping into my “senior” years (according to some), I don’t tackle anything more than “minor” these days. I said “what passes for” because it’s different from hardware stores of my youth.
Having spent some of my younger years (passing myself off) as a carpenter and/or a plumbers “helper”. Back in those younger days it took a lengthy “apprenticeship” (several years) before you could call yourself either. Maybe it still does today, but I’m no longer interested. I’ve completed (and left incomplete) my share of home “projects”.
Either way, I didn’t spend enough time at becoming either to “graduate” into actually being one? But I managed to fool some people (employers) along the way. Like lotsa guys, I spent a small fortune on the required “tools of the trade(s)”.
But somehow along that way it seems I’ve misplaced some of the requisite items needed to do actual “work”? But I’m not referrin’ to the actual physical tools needed to accomplish real work, as “missing”.
Down in my cellar I could lay hands on a chest (I built) full of carpenters tools. But my hands don’t seem to fit most of ‘em any longer? I could also drag out a box of plumbers tools, complete as in the days when I played at being a plumber. But my wrists will no longer rotate to clean a pipe fitting. My back can’t lift commodes into place anymore (luckily, I can still sit on a one pretty good). On top of all this, my nose refuses to get involved with anything that threatens unpleasant odors.
The mechanics tools I formerly used to “tune-up” (remember that?) my cars, lie unused next to the ones my father once regularly utilized (much more effectively than me). I can’t convince my back to straighten up if I lean over a car fender. The bifocals on my face don’t work through the “top” of the lenses on my specs. So, attempting to see into the dark recesses under a car hood is more trouble than it’s worth. We won’t even git into how averse my fingernails have grown to gittin’ grease under ‘em.
Nope, my “tool” failures are much closer. They effect the tools I was issued long before I ever started off on my many trips to the hardware stores to buy accessory ones.
For instance; My vision never was much at a distance, and lately movin’ in on things doesn’t help much? The strength in my grip has begun to slip. My legs don’t get into the “lift” mode anymore. My back won't stand behind me any longer. Though I might on occasion “listen in” under the hood of a buddies car (pretending) to help “diagnose” some problem? My ears lie to me so often, I don’t trust ‘em enough to offer up my opinion. On occasion I might, when I’m sure my listeners are smart enough not to listen?
I started off to tell ya about my trip to the hardware store.
First off, it’s way too big for walkin’ around in alone, without a compass an’ a canteen of water. I expect it had most anything you might use, as a “tradesman”. If you didn’t expire before you completed the trek back up front to the..., “Self-Service” checkout counter(s).
Self-service?! Shoppin’ had worn me out...! Where’s my checkout person!? That d@#% computerized moneychanger argued with me, ‘til it won (I was tired). I left my stuff on the floor next to it.
I Don’t Know About You..., When I gotta work that hard before I git to workin’? I’d rather not start.
Cal Teeple, founder of the Observational Cogitation Consortium is still often found three stools down. As well as at: www.wayneindependent.com/cal Or At: calteeple@gmail.com He may be ignored, accosted, or contacted in any of them.
