The hammer that disappeared
- Laura Moore: Housebroken
- October 7, 2024
- 753
No house is properly equipped without a hammer, a tool as basic to a well-run house as are brooms and mops.
Taller Half is a confirmed hammer hog. He is extremely protective about all tools and keeps them under lock and key on his workbench. The reasoning behind the tight tool security is Taller Half’s firm belief that, in the wrong hands, tools, especially hammers, are dangerous weapons. A house with hammers lying around is at risk of serious damage.
Since the need for minor hammering occurred occasionally when my life mate was not at home, I learned to improvise. Bottle openers, high heels, wooden spoons and the dog’s nylar bone were all subject to double duty as substitute hammers.
One afternoon I decided to hang a large, old mirror in our entrance hall. After beating the wall black and blue with a shoe heel in an unsuccessful attempt to drive in a couple of nails, I was driven by frustration to jimmy the lock on the workbench and make off with the genuine article, a real hammer.
Unfortunately, it was the wrong hammer for the job. Little tack hammers and small nails aren’t compatible and should never confront each other. When I swung that pointy-headed instrument at the nails, they dodged each other, resulting in the pointy head embedding itself in the Sheetrock. Oops!
Obviously, the hammer couldn’t stay there, but removing it would leave a gaping wound in the wall. Moments of crisis can give birth to panic or brilliant ideas. I had the latter. Very carefully, I pushed the hammer on through the hole, where it fell behind that wall and disappeared.
With great delicacy I bandaged the wound with tape and covered it with a coating
of spackle. Using our dog’s nylar bone, I drove two nails in through the tape and hung the mirror on the wall, which completely covered the problem. It was the perfect crime.
I’d have gotten away with it too, if we hadn’t moved.