Our drill died.
Butter's mourning its demise because she and this drill have a bit of a history together...
Mr. Drill had a good life, he was the resident drill of the Crafts Students League (CSL) in Manhattan, where Butter worked. Well when the CSL was closed after 75 years as a craft school, the drill needed a new home and it was given to me by the ceramics department. Mr. Drill you were the best and will be missed.
... but mostly we're bothered because this leaves us a bit, um, screwed -- or rather, unscrewed. (Sorry -- I could not resist... I positively love corny puns.)
A new drill is not exactly in the budget, but we neeeeeeeeed it. (shelves to hang! plaster buttons to affix! furniture to repair! cabinets to install!) I guess this is one of those things that you hear grown-ups grumble about when they curse being homeowners.
Speaking of the curse, Mr. P. Lumbing came to visit last night and he was dripping mad.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment