A Birthday Getting Hammered

 

My partner in crime is a Carpenter & Joiner.  He’s also a Builder.  This confused me until I learned that in Scotland it’s usually the Joiners who are the project leads on site, coordinating the other trades as well as doing their own bit. This means that I have a practical, thoughtful mind with me in the house.  If there’s an accident and something gets smashed or walloped, he can fix it.  If general wear and tear happens, he can fix it.  If I decide that I need a mirror or a little occasional table to fill a spot, he can do it.

He can, he can, he can!

It may take a while though.  Nobody likes to come home after work to do elements of their job again, do they?  Most certainly nobody likes using their weekend, their rest days, to do elements of their day-job.  So, these things do get done and they do get fixed, just not in a pronto time-frame.

And that’s okay. I can deal.

A side-product of my other half being a tradesman is that I now know stuff, about buildy stuff!

For instance, did you know that not all hammers are made equal?

Sometimes, when I’m sitting with my lovely man, watching tv, I get to be educated on various aspects of whatever trade thought he may be having.  This could be kicked off by a bad technique someone is doing on a building show, or an advertisement.  On this particular occasion something came on about hammers.  I sure learned quickly that hammers have different weights (some good for private home workshop use, others necessary for the professionals), their claws are different thicknesses and they have different handles.

Daddy’s hammer

Now, prior to this I knew my dad’s hammer from the toolbox.  It had the bashy part, it had the dig-outy part and it had a fat, wooden handle.  The end.  This right now though was a whole other ball game.  We have fiberglass hammers, steel hammers, different shaped handles, leather clad hammers… just all sorts.  There was only one thing I could do to survive this conversation – nonchalantly pull up the Amazon app on my phone.  You see, he said the magic words ‘I wish I had one of those, I’ve been looking at it on Ebay’.

Boom!  Birthday present sorted for his birthday in a month’s time. I felt like a total winner.  What perfect timing.

——————

A couple of weeks later we were watching the Postie pull up in front our house.  Was today going to be the day? Last week Saturday our order of toilet paper didn’t arrive. We had heard stories of packages of toilet paper being stolen in other regions and deliveries never getting to their destination.  Hopefully that wouldn’t be us.  Oh, wait! The Postie went to the back of the van. There’s a package coming out.  Oh, it’s the Amazon package.  Ok, not toilet paper but it’ll do. It’s my vitamins and stuff. Big box though.

Parcels are always great though, there’s an excitement about them and opening them.  A slightly delayed excitement now as I had to run through the steps – keep away from Postie. Find gloves to handle package. Do I need to spray the box? Okay let’s spray the box. Where are the scissors? Let’s open up.

Ah yes, the vitamins, some boring bits and bobs to replace things that had broken around the house.  The hubby is chatting with me and doing stuff on his phone next to me as I open up the package. Oh no, let’s close it up and totally not look conspicuous! He can’t see his birthday present, it’s not time. Gotta hide it!  I grab the pet food scoops next to the hammer in the package and gleefully wave them in front of his face! “Don’t you love them?” I squeal excitedly.  He gives me the side-eye.  Okay so they’re just cheap plastic scoops worth under £1 each.  I studiously focus on popping the air-filled plastic bags that filled up the box.  Maybe I should take the plunge.  I mean the weather’s awful, he can’t do some of the work that he was supposed to do today, and our toilet paper didn’t arrive.  Maybe it’s time.

So I take it out and I stick it out in a matter-of-fact way – “Here, Happy Birthday!”  He looks at what’s in my hand, he smiles at me. “Oh, why didn’t you wait until my birthday?” Ugh, sigh. I totally deflated at that.  Then, a few minutes later he couldn’t contain his excitement, he loved it! Yay! Take win, chick!

He grabs it, looks at it, hefts it up and down. Oh there are so many fakes on the market he tells me.  I chose a really good authentic one he says. How did I know what weight to get?

I had to admit that I just got the heaviest option because he bangs things for a living and I figured the heavier the better for someone who makes things every day .  Again that gentle smile.  He really is a lovely, gentle guy. 

These used to be made in the United States he says, but he heard that they had shifted production elsewhere.  He asks me to look at the label to see where they were made. I read out the label to him and then I come to the last line: Made in China.

We both looked at each other and there was one thought hanging in the air between us: Quick, Hand Sanitizer!

The Rural Transplant

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