Bingo, bango
Woodworkers with spouses who are also woodworkers probably won’t be able to identify with this. The rest of us, though, certainly will.
If your spouse is a woodworker, you’re confident in their ability to use tools, and that they know how to take care of certain woodworky things. If they need something done, they just go ahead and do it. If they’re using tools, you can rest assured they’re using them correctly. And if you hear the happy sounds of working, you smile and know there’s nothing to worry about.
If, on the other hand, your spouse knows little to nothing about woodworking, then the semi-distant sound of persistent banging coming from somewhere in the house sends a chill up your spine.
Working in my office on Sunday, I hear a quick bang-bang-bang from downstairs. Then a single bang, and a pause. Then a staccato series of bang-bang-banging lasting 20 or 30 seconds, another pause, then more banging.
It’s OK, I tell myself. Probably a spider or something being handled with extreme prejudice. But wait; in addition to hearing it, I’m also sort of feeling it in the floor. Bang. Then, bang-bang-bang.
Upon investigation, it turns out the noise was entirely related to cleaning the cats’ litter box. Apparently, some loose litter had gotten between the baseboard and wall by the box. Sally had pried the baseboard open enough to clean it out, but once pulled free she couldn’t get it to stay in place.
She did it all wrong, of course. Instead of finishing nails, she had grabbed common nails and their heads were really visible. And because she was hammering into drywall and not the studs or floor plate, she kept using them till that baseboard stayed put. Doesn’t look real good, but it worked.
On the one hand, I wish she had said something and I would have done it later. On the other hand, she not only took the initiative to do a fix-it chore herself to avoid interrupting me, the results worked even if not pretty. In all, I’m really proud of her.
Plus, she put my hammer back where it belonged.
A.J.
