Mussolini? Confucius?
Oprah?
Whoever it was, I salute and curse you.
I salute you for your optimism. My favorite planer sputtered out of existence this week during an inopportune moment. I heeded your words and cannibalized the backup for parts. My heart sang, my breast swelled with pride and giddy anticipation.
I curse you, as this 'solution' created more problems, dashed whatever self-confidence I had managed to preserve during these last two years of child-rearing, and sent a sliver of metal deep into my right thumb.
Problem:
Ended up forking out for a new tool, which stung until she arrived, shiny, willing, guiltless. We went right to work on a trusty quad fish design.
Red cedar stringer for snap and raditude.
Pulled-in nose for NorthCoast pounders.
Four fins of fun.
What did I learn from this experience? First, get the cell number of your repair person--shop voicemail just doesn't cut it during the holidays. Second, an American (non-metric) tool saves at least three trips to the local hardware. Finally, a good local port in the late-night hours always takes the sting out of a new purchase.
Cheers.
