wrenches and stools

One of my downfalls is doing the things I'd rather do instead of doing the things I should do.  Today was no exception.  I'd let down the jack on the vehicle after replacing the last tire.  I'm pretty diligent about rotating the tires, don't ya know.  I should have been washing floors.  Yes.  I'd rather rotate the tires.  I wouldn't want to wait another couple of weeks when it was actually due to be done.

To finish the job, I needed a torque wrench, just the make sure the lug nuts were tight enough.  So, off I go next door to the garage to fetch one.  We all know that it will still be in my own garage for months.  Then I'd get a call from my dad asking if I'd seen his torque wrench.  I'd then tell him he shouldn't leave things at his ass, then maybe he'd be able to find his things.  (He'd told me much of the same during my childhood.)  I'd bring him back his blessed torque wrench.  It's kind of a game we play.

Anyway, I walk across the field to my dad's place with the dog in tow. The dog is always in tow.  We get to the garage to find my dad sanding what looks like a simple bench, though it's only about 3" high.  

"Where's your torque wrench?" I ask him.

"In the rack, where it always is." he tells me.  I giggle inwardly. 

"What are you making?"

"It's a stool for your mother's feet.  She tells me her feet aren't comfortable when she sits in the van."

"She wants a stool for her feet in the van?" I ask.

"Dunno.  It might make her more comfortable."

You should understand that this is the same cranky bastard that went off in a huff the other day after mom suggested he shouldn't wear those pants to town.

They're weird.  They have been weird for 46 years and change.  

Yes. His torque wrench is now in my garage.  I'm waiting for his call.