I got an email today from a friend who reminded me of an old post on the bozPROJECT blog about my favorite tool . I guess he got a good laugh at my expense when he read the post. And then came a day when he, too, needed to tool. So he went out on the hunt and tracked one down. How can I arrange for royalties???
I am reprinting this (first time on active rain) at his request...
WHAT A TOOL!
There are certain things in life that I can excuse...
1) It's ok if you don't wave when I let you cut in front of me in traffic.
2) I can even live with you eating the last of the fig newtons. (Now, if it were the last piece of chocolate, we might fight!)
3) I can handle it if you make it all the way to the front of the concession line at the theater and are still deciding what snacks/drinks you want to order.
4) It won't kill me if your cell phone rings in the middle of a meeting/movie/wedding (although that might piss the bride off a little).
Yes, there are certain annoyances in life that I can tolerate. However, I cannot and will not ever tolerate someone MISPLACING MY PAINTERS TOOL! OK, so it's not MY painter's tool; it's boz's. And yes, boz can sometimes be a tool. But there may be some question about which I am more fond of, boz or the tool.
Until this most recent tool came into my life; I had the older, less sophisticated version - the black, Hyde 5 in 1 tool. It was a spreader. It was a scraper. It was a putty knife. It was a crack patcher. It was a paint remover. It did its job quite well and was one of the most satisfying, space defying tools I have ever used. But last month, boz brought home the new tool. The shiny, new, red 15 in 1. Yep, you heard me - a whole 10 more uses than the older version and a cushy handle for a safer, stronger grip. A technological marvel in a similar space saving package that replaced my old friend.
This may be my best friend on the job. After all, how many friends do you have that can pry off molding for you? Take out screws and nails? Remove putty and wallpaper? Patch holes? Open a paint can for you? Spread paint? Clean paint rollers and brushes? Set nails? I haven't even figured out all 15 uses yet! AND it opens a beer for you when the work is done!
You can probably find a friend to do all that. But for a one time fee of $10? Not likely! And this tool doesn't actually drink any of your beer! Or borrow money and not pay it back... No, this tool is loyal and dependable and inexpensive and strong and versatile. And for a few long hours last week; this tool was also MISSING!!!
At first, there was disbelief. Maybe I misplaced it. I often do silly things like that. So I searched all the possible places I would have put it. No tool.
Then there was denial. "OK, I will just use this big putty blade to scrape wallpaper, it will work fine." Not a chance. The blade was not nearly as solid. And - TRAGEDY - no bottle opener!
Then, there was bargaining. I was making deals like, "Take my electric sander instead! I would gladly hand sand than give up this tool forever!"
Next, guilt. "What must I have done that caused this to happen?" Certainly I either actually lost the thing or did something terrible to make the universe conspire against me to misplace it!
And then it happened...Anger! Of course it was not me. Who used this tool last? The girls. They were over here the day before scraping wallpaper. How could they? Don't they know better than to misplace a girl's 15 in 1 tool? I called Dawn Marie. No answer. I called Debbie.
"Have either of you seen my 15 in 1 tool?"
"I think Dawn Marie was using it."
I could hear DM in the background, "Oh, that thing was great!"
What??? Did I hear correctly? 'Great'? Anger swelled up in my head like a storm. I lost rational thinking. "Great? YOU HAVE NO IDEA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH IT?"
"It's on the bench."
"No," I snapped. "Not on the bench."
This went on for awhile and then I hung up. I looked more - still no tool. I continued trying to accomplish my wallpaper removal task with the sorry-excuse-for-a-replacement-putty-knife and the depression sank in.
All those times we shared, that tool and I. How it will be missed. I can't possibly replace it with just any old tool. And then the phone call came.
"Did you find the tool yet?"
"No."
"I am sure I left it exactly where I found it. Check the toolbox."
"I already checked every tool box in this house. IT'S NOT THERE." As the depression had firmly taken hold at this point, this comment did not come out as a scream, but more of a whimper.
"Did you check the toolbox by the guest bathroom?"
Toolbox by the guest bathroom? What toolbox by the guest bathroom? The tears started to dry from my eyes. Clouds started to clear from the sky. I heard birds chirping in the background as I made my way through the expansive ranch house to the guest bath.
There, at the end of the long hall, behind a trash can used to haul debris from the gutted bath to the dumpster, was a toolbox I had never seen before. A tiered, gray box that contained sandpaper, a small prybar, some wrenches...and there, beside the clamps, beneath the ray of sunshine that miraculously illuminated it, was the 15 in 1 tool!
"It's here! I found it. You found it." Turns out, it was where she found it. Where boz left it. (After all, we established that technically this is his tool, not mine.) In a place where I never would have found it because I did not know that place existed. And now, I am reunited with my tool.
There will be some damage control. After all, I alienated my friends and business partners with my reaction to the missing tool. But surely they will understand when the trusty tool opens a beer for them in an act of apology.
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