End Grain: CSI: Tools

It’s hard to hide the loot when your wife has detective skills.

By Joe McMahon
Page: 64

From the April 2011 issue #189
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I am a toolaholic. There, I’ve said it. I’ve admitted my weakness. I am in need of a 12-step program. A 12-step program or a good surgeon. For you see, my bride has the sense of humor of a cat after it has been crazy glued to the left front hubcap of a ’53 Buick that was driven 40 miles per hour over an Arkansas washboard back road. My wife is not mean. She is “focused.” At least that is what she tells me that “look” means. You know the “look.” That steely eyed glare that you feel searing your back when your significant other creeps up behind you just as the UPS truck is leaving your driveway and you are festooned with cardboard boxes.

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From the April 2011 issue #189
Buy this issue now