I am not a Toolman, but I may be a Tool

This past weekend I helped a friend with a large home improvement project and it occurred to me that I am not a Toolman, but I may be a Tool.

Tool: (def) instrument: the means whereby some act is accomplished. I don't know much about these. Toolmen use these.

Tool: (def) creature: a person who is controlled by others and is used to perform unpleasant or dishonest tasks for someone else. This sounds more familiar. In Basic Training, at least, this is what my Drill Sergeant called me.

I used to be bigger, stronger, and maybe even better looking when naked than my friend, Dave. This, however, has changed. Dave is a Toolman. Toolmen, with a proper diet of course, get to be better looking in the nude than non-Toolmen. I am sure that this is the case with Dave and myself (although we haven't had a proper 'flex-off' in years).

A good reason for this is that the tools used by Toolmen tend to be heavy. Additionally, using tools tends to be physically exhausting. Proof of this can be seen in the machines built to help Toolmen. They are impressive. They are big. Some of them can lift houses and crush cars. I have seen them. Even the clothes Toolmen have to wear are strong--like steeled toed boots. When I work I wear sandals--without socks.

Even as I write this my wife tells me that I am haunching over. Toolmen don't haunch over when they sit down. They have good posture. It now occurs to me that the Apple Fritter that I am eating probably doesn't help my posture either. Dave drinks PowerAde. I have no use for such drinks. It is strictly coffee for me. I don't even drink water. Whereas Toolmen have beer to end a hot day of hard work, I just have beer.

I was explaining this very fact to my wife when I leaned on our kitchen counter and it moved an inch. It has been falling away from the wall at a consistent rate for the last three years. My wife reminds me that it is getting worse and I agree with her. There is definitely something wrong. The drawers don't even close correctly anymore. I suspect that someday it will just finish its slow but steady fall all at once...with a big bang. I suspect that that will probably scare the dog.

Our toilet handle fell off one day...you know, the flusher knob. For two months I stuck my hand into the water tank and flushed it manually. Figuring out how to do that was a stroke of genius. My friend, Ben, told me that it would only take 3 minutes to change the knob. I protested that he did not know me. I asked about the glue and the chains and the tools. He shook his head. He said I didn't need those things. He is a Toolman so I trusted him. He was right. It took me 3 minutes to put in the wrong knob.

This is why I am not a Toolman. Even when I can do something right it is not right. That means that I have to drive all the way back to the Toolman shop and explain to some professional Toolman that I am an idiot. They always smile at me like I am a woman who is pretending to be a man...or like I am Will from Will and Grace. Speaking of women...

Dave's wife, Jill, is more of a Toolman than I am. This is particularly disturbing, not that women cannot be Toolmen or that there are not Toolwomen, but because Jill works long hours at a challenging job and is getting another degree. She is a better Toolman than I am and she does it in her spare time--which is very little. My whole life is spare time.

My wife and I once had a room that was completely dark. It was dark for over a month. I couldn't figure out which light bulbs to get. No, I am not a Toolman, but I just may be a Tool.