I'm Thankful I'm Handy

Yeah it's two weeks after Thanksgiving but I'm going to post about things I'm thankful for anyway.

I'm thankful my pops, the big RECCO, fixed everything. We never called a plumber or an electrician unless they were related to us.

When I was little he had only blue collar jobs. He would come home covered in mud and blood, but even when he got himself a fancy office his hands still betrayed his handiness. Massive with thick callouses, they always had a few cuts because although dad was handy he was also impatient. He would jam that giant mitt into the tiniest places because it would take longer to get the extension for the wrench.

 

He once sawed a socket wrench in half because it wouldn't fit in between my engine block and the radiator. Of course he couldn't be bothered to file the edge so the radiator fluid and his blood mixed into a horribly macabre Christmas decoration all over the driveway.

Not that he noticed. We always needed to point out to him when he was bleeding.

One of many things I get from him is this same lack of self preservation.

Sorry I got sidetracked.

When I came home yesterday I walked down to my mailbox and tried to get the mail out only for the box to fall off the post.

It appears that someone knocked the whole thing down. I'd love to accuse hooligans but I find it unlikely that after knocking it down they suddenly had a crisis of conscience and tried to fix the thing.

"Stop, I just can't live with myself. What did that mailbox ever do to me? I think I'm just trying to compensate because my dad never told me he was proud of me."

That is my third choice drill, the only one that was charged.

First I cursed loudly. (The kids were still in school so no judging.)

Then I marched back up the driveway with the mailbox tucked under my arm and got all the tools I would need to fix it.

I didn't grab a hammer and just try and bang it back on. I didn't call Triple S on the tugboat somewhere in the gulf.I didn't call my nice neighbor and ask for help.

I fixed the dam thing. 

So thanks Dad for being the crazy man who made me change my own oil in my first car. For making me learn to change the tires even though we had triple A. For teaching me how to use power tools and the importance of a fuse box and a thousand other things.

Good as new!