|Our Tool Chest|
I've never been a big tools guy. I have however always encouraged friends and neighbors to buy quality tools, because I like to borrow the best. My dad was like that too. We lived next door to a ship's mechanic who was seldom around but had a comprehensive set of quality tools that we'd borrow from his wife. In exchange my dad let her eldest daughter give me Chinese lessons for free. Did I mention my dad was a great negotiator?
Anyway, I wish we had some proper tools when I got locked in the bathroom today. I closed the door, heard the lock snap of its own accord, tried to re-open it but couldn't. I called Wa through the door to get me out and she fetched our sorry excuse for a tool chest to see what she could use. While she banged away with a hammer on the other side, I decided I might as well brush my teeth and take a shower. By the time I was done, there was a hole where the door handle had been, but I was still locked in.
I could see Wa fiddling with a pipe wrench and wanted to ask how the hell that was supposed to help, but restrained myself as I could see that she was much agitated after twenty minutes of banging. She soon realized the wrench was useless. She went off and returned with two butter knives and handed me one through the hole. We twiddled the knives from both sides of the now damaged lock mechanism and finally managed to get the door open.
The problem occurred because of the bad quality lock we'd installed and I wanted to tell Wa she shouldn't have bought that cheap lock, but this wasn't an “I-told-you-so” moment. It never is, by the way.
We now have some idea as to how long it would take a burglar armed with a hammer and butter knife to break into our toilet: one hour. That's enough time for even the lethargic Thai police to get here, so the toilet would be a good place to store our valuables. Now all we need are some valuables.
We've agreed that good tools are essential to have around and have begun canvassing our neighbors to get an inventory.