I was assisting my wife take photos of families at a local pre-prep today (I was primarily drinking coffee and Facebo0king) when we started discussing how great it would be to have a craft table like the ones at the centre.
“All we need to do,” I told my wife, “is buy an old table and cut the legs down.”
Anyone who’s ever seen or heard about my efforts with a hammer is now shuddering involuntarily. But the fact is I do too have a saw. My Dad gave it to me about 25 years ago. And while I’ve never had cause to use it I’ve always been keen to give it a go.
That’s why I really tried to make the whole thing sound simple. ‘All we need do.’ I was super excited.
“I’ve got a saw,” I added, sure that our entire marriage she’s never suspected this.
My wife raised her eyebrows in what was, it must be said, a somewhat mocking manner.
“You need a band-aid for that?”
It wasn’t the straight out no I was expecting, which I saw as a plus. But it also made no sense to me whatsoever.
“What?” I asked her. “Why would I want a band-aid?”
“For your sore.”
It took me a couple of seconds to get a mental grip on this.
“A saw!” I said, mimicking Bob The Builder-like arm action: nearly throwing my shoulder out in the process. “Not a sore.”
“I’ve seen you working a hammer,” said Tracey. “My offer stands. You need a band-aid?”
Which, importantly, I heard as not a no.
“I will by the time I finish,” I told her. “Obviously.”
So although she had a good point, I’m in the market for an old, wooden table I can hack to bits. This is gonna be great! Or blogworthy. Either way, so long as when it’s done I can still count to ten on my fingers, I’m calling it a win.
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs”