Monday, August 13, 2012


Some time ago, one of my toolboxes was spilled on the ground.  And at the moment of it spilling, we had guests with children due to arrive.  Haki and I hastily flicked and scooped pieces back inside, with little care for where they landed -- the immediate need was to ensure there weren't any sharp and dangerous things left on our floor -- not to sort the contents.  Well, that's what Haki kept reminding me anyway.

Since The Day of the Spill, I've had a yearning to attend to the pressing matter of the toolbox of chaos; a yearning I was able to swallow and bear when weighed against more pressing matters (read: the toolbox is kept in the basement so I was not constantly taunted by its state).

Also, when my dad finished up staying with us, he left his own "South Island" depository of hardware (among other things) in our basement.  After confirming he had no interest in being reunited with his stash, I knew his supplies needed to be assimilated with my own for their own good.

When Haki recently announced his morning appointments had all fallen through or rescheduled and he would be home for the morning, I knew the blessed day had come;
Haki came into the kitchen to see me stooped over the case, with egg cartons surrounding me (for the sorting process), and with a mischievous and crooked smile asked, "And how are you feeling right now?"

I spun to face him over my hunched back and smiled with an open mouth, then answered, "So happy."

He patted me on the back and replied, "I thought so."

I'm still happy about it.

It's almost been a week.
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