This weekend I rediscovered something I haven’t seen for a long, long time. Years, in fact. And I have some local juvenile delinquents to thank for it.
Returning home from picking up my daughter I was pissed to discover some yobbos had egged the side of my house. Now I don’t want you to think we live in a bad neighbourhood. In fifteen years nothing untoward has really happened here, except some young handicapped kid stealing a down pipe off the side of the house and the mailbox exploding this one time.
So I was in the shed hunting behind old dolls houses, chipped furniture and assorted whipper snippers for the gurney. And. There. It. Was. Hidden in a painting rag – my hammer!
Like an old school friend we immediately picked up where we’d left off five years ago and I raced around the house ‘fixing’ all those little things I’d been putting off because my wife had confiscated my hammer after an unfortunate picture hanging incident.
Well anyway, I briefly ran around the house hitting stuff.
For while I desperately attempted to keep the noise down it is unbelievably difficult to bang softly. Tracey came racing into the kitchen just as I was attempting to nail the cordless phone to the wall and snatched the hammer out of my hand before stomping off to the bedrooms to find it a new hiding spot.
Ah, well, maybe this Family Night I should suggest to the kids we have a treasure hunt 🙂
