Let me start by saying that my husband, Jeff, is making me the most amazing farm style dining table. I am grateful and can’t wait to see the finished project. He is a talented woodworker and has made many beautiful pieces for our entire family. I begin this way lest my reader think I am mad or making fun of my husband. Well, actually I am making fun of him, but let the record show it was his idea. Here is the record…
“And that’s why I need three power drills,” stated my husband to me though I had not inquired into the number of his power drills. It caught me off guard, and my blank stare was not enough to end the conversation. So he continued, “in case you were wondering.” I was not wondering, I did not even know how many power drills he had, and I did not care. Power drills in my world are necessary for certain jobs but I find them slightly intimidating and just a little bit scary. I am in a happy place if I do not have to think about power drills at all during the course of the day, most of my days have been spent in happy places. Although recently, I found myself helping my pregnant daughter hang some shelves and the power drill was wielded by me for a short period of time. Several things to note about that adventure, it was my son-in-law’s power drill, I drilled several unnecessary holes accidentally, I slipped once and nearly drilled my own thumb, I was very happy when the job was done and the power drill got put away.
Back to the number of power drills my husband needs… Since he mentioned that I might be wondering and since he began drilling again, giving me a chance to begin wondering in earnest. I observed keenly my environment. I was holding up my end of the pieces of wood currently being worked on giving me a clear vantage of my surroundings. Indeed three power drills were in proximity to me. One drill, an older black, well used, tool lay on its side with what appeared to be a Phillips head type screwing bit attached. A second power drill, a newer, lovely orange, model was plugged in nearby with what appeared to be an actual drill bit in place. Finally, my husband was wielding a yellow bent angle drill with a bit that he was using to make counter sink holes in the pieces of wood that I was still holding while making my inventory of power drills. If that last sentence was impressive and not in keeping with what seems to be my knowledge of power tools, it may be because I know more than my husband thinks I know or it may be because he told me about his bent angle drill and counter sinking methods. If this was face book I would add a couple of winks at this point.
I began to put the puzzle together. The seemingly random comment referring to the power drill needs of my husband had nothing to do with my wondering mind. Rather, it was commentary on his cleverness. I realized then that I had overlooked praising his efficiency in the power tool department. While I was mindlessly holding up my end of the project happily listening to my favorite country music station I did in fact notice that his routine was going very smoothly. This slick system involved drilling a hole, boring the counter sink hole, and finally screwing in the wood screw. No time was wasted by my clever husband having to change bits on a single drill. No sir, like a highly skilled surgeon he had the proper instruments lined up ready to go as each phase of operation required.
It was somewhat anti-climatic when I finally replied, “nice job, three drills means you don’t have to waste time changing the bit.” His smile and nod of the head confirmed to me that his need of many power tools was not so much the issue as my failure to admire his work. I made fun of him, he made fun of me, and we had a lot of fun that afternoon. Memories were being built in to my table. I’m gonna love that table.
