Yesterday was lovely, so the doggie and I went outside to work. I want to set up a patio area out front so on some mornings the neighborhood ladies can come for coffee, tea, whatever. Things were going swimmingly, until I whacked my index finger on my right hand with a hammer. Ouch. It is still slightly swollen, black and blue, and a tad tender...otherwise, I think I'm going to live.
My neighbor, Teresa, came to help move the rest of the panels into their new spots, and said I should call her if I needed more help.
All righty, then...back to work I go. I'm learning to clean up and put tools away as I go along when I know I'm not going to use them again...this, in case I poop out, and want to quit. The rest of the tools stay on the work bench (I've lost tools in the past...picture Paul's ashes moving round in his box, in his favorite living-room chair), so, out of respect, I've tried to keep his workbench in the order he kept it.
Anyway, things were moving alone smoothly, and quickly, sawing, hammering, screwing in screws. I was sooo proud...(I forgot, pride goeth before a fall.) I'm almost done. I just have to hang two hinges...the gate to the patio panel...the panel to the gate. How hard can this be? (Oh, brother)!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The two hinges to the gate went swimmingly, piece of cake. Next I stand the gate up, and 'kind of'' rest it against the panel I want to connect it to. Thank you, Zorro for taking your front yard chain and racing back and forth across the driveway, knocking it catty-whom-pus...several times. Each time, that seems so silly, I begin to giggle.
So, there I am my flabby butt sitting on the driveway, With my foot, I'm trying to hold the gate against the panel, while my hands are trying to hold the BOTTOM of the gate and panel together, in order to screw in the first screw. I know once I get the first screw in, the pieces will be stable enough I can easily finish the job.
(Oh, in the meantime, the UPS guy arrives and he is full of advise..."get out your power tools"...Yeah, right, women really do that.)
My neighbor, Teresa, finally hears me talking to myself,and giggling uncontrollably, and comes to check on me. She offers to help and I gratefully accept. Of course, by now we are both in fits of laughter and have to compose ourselves first.
With four hands we complete the job, lickity-brindle, and we are both very proud. I try to close the gate.
Ooops! Bummer, it won't close. I didn't saw off enough of the foot of the gate. So we cajole the remaining part of the gate foot off, thanks to WD-40 that helped loosen the screws. This did the trick. We are sooo pleased with ourselves. Within the next 20 or so minutes, I've finished construction, and moved some plants to 'prettify' the the whole thing. Zorro and I happily retreat to the house. Woo, Hoo.
Now, just exactly why I brainstorm in the shower, I've no idea, but there I am this morning, contemplating why the hinge hanging turned out to be the most difficult part of this operation.
There...in my head...I hear...Paul's voice..."You hang the TOP hinge first...idiot"...(he really didn't say 'idiot'... my voice added that). Really? You wait til this morning to tell me that?
All I have to say is, why didn't he offer that advise yesterday, while Teresa and I were in the throes of laughter...but, maybe that's why...we would have missed out on a fun time.
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