I Can Fix It

Interesting day, today was.

The most harrowing time at work seems to be near the end of my shift, because that's when the shit tends to hit the veritable fan and all hope of ever going home seems lost. Exhibit A, 3:30 a.m. this morning. I manage to screw up something on my mutinous machine at work, and am stuck hunched over awkwardly armed with allen wrenches and a few four letter words, mentally chanting the mantra, "I can fix it" like a loon on repeat

And fix it I did, right as the clock struck the golden hour of 5. Take that, mechanical ineptitude that is my being.

Fast forward to a few hours ago.The Beast hauls me into the living room, determined to fix the Igloo dog house that the filthy mutt managed to utterly obliterate. It was a harsh reminder that I'm no longer four years old, because after having been goaded into crawling inside for some of the repair work, it was not the spacious Hideout of Doom that my younger self would have imagined. Indeed, even with the upper half practically falling off, it was decidedly cramped.

Goodbye childhood memories, you won't really be missed.

Heh. Anyway, I digress. Where were we, fixing said dog house? Yeah....

Now it stands, as a testament to pure redneck genius, fixed with duct tape, the top of a paint can, and a handful of combine bolts. I'd post a picture, but where would be the laziness in that?

I guess the moral of today is that yeah, you can fix it. Probably.

.....Unless you can't.