Before my husband and I married and bought our condo we moved to a new rental unit about once a year. Every time we began unpacking he teased me because I would keep a screwdriver in my pocket and tighten every screw I could find. We’ve lived in our home for three and a half years now. My husband thought I was cured because I have not been practicing my screw tightening ritual anymore.
A few weeks ago I sat at one of our bar stools and a screw fell to the floor.
I hadn’t yet replaced it the next day when another fell out. I dutifully replaced both screws and tightened the rest on both of the bar stools, while thinking maybe my annual habit wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I let the idea flutter by.
This morning it took me 15 minutes to hang my delicates to dry on the rack!
I thought I would hang them in about five and then get to work. As I pulled out the drying rack and unfolded it, guess what fell to the floor? Twenty-two tightened screws later and here I am, nine in the morning, ready to finish my work day so I can walk around my house this evening with my trusty screwdriver.