Sunday, January 23, 2022

Never bring a lazy man to a knife fight

A couple of months ago my only table knife went missing. I suspected it had slid off the counter then down the crack between the bed and the wall where it would be very hard to reach. The bed is bolted down and the things under the bed are packed in like Tetris pieces. And even if I were to move that stuff out of the way, reaching to the wall requires getting down on my back in the slightly narrower than myself space between the bed and cabinet, scooching over, getting my head under there, trying to see what I'm doing with just one eye and r-e-e-e-e-e-e-a-ch-i-n-g…

Well, I finally got tired of spreading things with the back of a spoon (even though it works better than expected) and did the unpacking part. Yup, there it was, up against the wall, out of easy reach. Then I had an idea. I got off the floor, found my potato masher and... yeah, that made reaching a little easier. I have my knife again.


Sometimes accomplishing stupid little things makes me feel like I totally have my act together.


  1. I'll use my pocket knife for spreading too.

  2. I suppose it has sentimental value otherwise you would have done the sensible thing and bought a new one.

    1. In a way. It's the last remaining piece of my first grownup flatware set, circa 1978.