Gotta, oughta, wanna

It’s one of those lazy Sunday afternoons.  I slept in, made a nice breakfast, and then started arguing with myself over what I have to do today.  It would seem that whenever I have a large block of time open, my inner taskmaster immediately tries to fill it with sundry obligations.

Rather than immediately rushing off to do something, I finished my tea and then read a couple of articles in a magazine that had been left open on the dining room table, giving breakfast a few more minutes to digest.  It didn’t take too long to come to the conclusion that most of my taskmaster’s orders were actually suggestions, without any urgency.

  • Yes, I do have to go out sometime today to get my transit pass refilled.
  • Yes, it would be an excellent idea to put in an hour or so of clarinet practice.
  • No, I don’t need to work on the attic insulation.  Yes, it would be nice to use up that open bundle of material.  No, I’m not in the mood for climbing ladders today.
  • Yes, I want to bake some cookies, some for home and some to bring to work; however, the butter just came out of the fridge and it won’t be soft for a couple of hours.
  • No, I don’t need to work on those alterations for my suit jacket because I don’t need the jacket for a couple of weeks.
  • Yes, I’d like to do something about that broken tripod sitting at the far end of the table, so I can put it away.

I decided to have a look at the tripod first.  I went to my toolbox and found a set of Allen keys to loosen the hex bolt that held one of the intact legs in place.  Comparing it to the leg that had fallen off, had been repaired and had fallen off again, it became obvious that this would be an easier fix than anticipated.  The main part of the busted piece was more or less intact, except for a bent‑up piece of  tube inserted at the top, and the length matched the good leg.  No heroics were required — I didn’t have to disassemble the good legs and trim them down with a hack saw.  All I had to do was mix up a batch of five‑minute epoxy and glue the bad leg back into its mounting.

So that’s what I did.  The tripod is off the table, standing firmly on all three of its legs while the glue hardens up.  The whole fix took less than half an hour.

I’m still not keen on going up into the attic, or on fussing with a stitch ripper and sundry other sewing tools, but it might be time to start making those cookies.

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