Chapter 10

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I get this crazy idea, half out of my mind. As May progresses I get online and study tools. I make a list and start to borrow a variety of tools from the stud next door just to see and spend more time with him. Of course, I don’tneed the tools. Why would I? I’m not Jesus and intend to build things. I’m not part of the public works for the city.

Not the flat-headed screwdriver.

Not the sixteen-ounce Fiberglass professional rip hammer.

Not the curved, jaw locking set of pliers.

Not the channel locks.

Not the roll of silver duct tape.

Not the mini-pick and hook set.

Not the C-clamp.

Not the three-way tacker staple gun.

Not the eight-inch magnetic torpedo level angle finder.

Not the seven-inch long wood chisel set with its PVC handle.

Not the mini-folding lock-back utility knife.

Not the twelve-inch hacksaw.

And the list goes on and on of the tools I borrow from Tool.

It’s so nice to see him. Always. Always.