Years ago, I dated an extremely wealthy young lady. She and her folks lived in Gatsby's area of Long Island. One weekend afternoon, when I came over for a swim, they asked me to change a lightbulb in their cabana. (How many Jewish Lawyers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?) Well I succeeded in the endeavor. My girlfriend's mother asked me, "How did you know how to do that? You always grew up in apartments?" After that they would invite me over to pull out pkugs, turn on light switches and flush the toilet.
My dad could fix anything, somehow he never passed it along to me. I'm not as bad as I make myself out to be. (See lightbulb, prior paragraph.) What am I getting at? Today I put together a piece of computer equipment. Sure it took longer than the average 4 year old would have taken, but I did it.
This was a real Nuckle buster. I searched and searched and I found my tool kit. As I opened it, I noticed the warning, "for children 6 and over." I checked my driver's licence. Good, I just made it by 48 years.
Now I have to figure out which end of the screwdriver to use. Next after trying to pound a nail with a saw, I realized that a hammer would be better for this. I now know how Lucky I am to live across the street from the Hospital.
TWo broken fingers late, somehow, even with PD, I got it done. Just call me Mr. Fix it.
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