This looks like a pretty easy job. After all, if Ralphie's Mom didn't volunteer him the lug nuts would've been safely in the hubcap on the ground. However, there were other "help your father jobs" that are more meaningful and fraught with peril. Hold The Flashlight was my favorite. I can't remember exactly what critical task required me to be pressed into service, but I do remember that I sucked at it. I had to hold the heavy flashlight rock steady for minutes at a time while my Dad fumbled around trying to fix something. This was before the age of LED's and lithium batteries. After a mere three minutes the glow would start to diminish as the batteries started to die. That would lead to more cussing and a trip to the fridge where we had old batteries aging alongside the cheese. A dozen dead batteries didn't dissuade Dad from wanting to terrorize you. All that meant was that the flashlight strength and agility test was replaced by, hold the match.
Another job that proved how utterly useless I was concerned the toilet tank. I had to hold this big copper float ball up to stop the water from shooting out while Dad replaced some copper tube. After a minute I couldn't hold it any longer. A gusher of water shot up to the ceiling and left a stain which I got to view about six times a day for the next ten years. Perhaps that is why nowadays I prefer to work alone.
1 comment:
Babba, are you reading some sort of "Therapy for Dummies" book?
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