Abez sez Assalamualaikum!

Look Ma, I’m awake!

Those of you who are familiar with my schedule (the best blogs are posted at 3 am) will share my mother’s amazement when she reads my update later. It’s 8:12 am and I am vertical; as in upright. AKA, not in bed. I have to say, it’s rather cold out of Bed, and I am accustomed to laying toastily inside it from after Fajr until a bit before lunch.

So yeah, the house is cold and quiet and the car is dead. Since Daddy Dearest is unable to fix it from such and such a distance it will remain cold and dead unless some miraculous event enables me to locate and properly use jumper cables, a feat that would possibly require changing my gender first. I don’t know what’s with females and cars. I think because we’re told that cars are a ‘guy thing,’ we let them take care of things. This saves your cuticles from motor-oil stains (mine prefer ink instead) but on the downside, it means that you’re helpless to start your own car if no one else will help you.

I know that people with disagree, saying they know how to change tires and put oil and wiper fluid in the car and water in the little hole where the water goes, and actually I do too, but I have all the confidence and expertise of a nervously trained monkey. Come on, when’s the last time you saw a monkey changing a tire, eh? Did they look like they knew what they were doing?

I’m not all girly. I have a manly scar on my hand from putting oil in my car. I rather ingeniously managed to cut myself and get motor oil inside, so I have a half-inch scar running diagonally across one knuckle that has a gray line from where the oil was not cleaned. It’s like a tattoo of sorts, but less aesthetically pleasing.

Oh yes, and I assemble furniture. I love it. Beds, cabinets, tables, and once a fifteen-foot steel-framed trampoline. It’s good, clean fun, and since they started letting me use the power drill, things are a lot more exciting.

(zzzoooom? eeeeeek!)

This began four score and maybe less years ago when Big Bro was not present for the assembling of a cabinet my dad had just brought from K-mart. I was the next oldest child. I brought my father the screw drivers (flat and Phelps) and he let me beat at a few nails. A hobby was born.

My dream is to one day own a power sander. The first place I’ll use it will be my father’s scratchy and calloused feet.

(zzzoooom? eeeeek!)

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