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Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Wanted, Secret Agent Job.

We all need a place for things.  At home I have a small bucket, a little storage facility, for my keys, my wallet, the security card for my job, spare change, that my son doesn't grab, pocket knives (of which there are an alarming number, it might not be healthy, this obsession) little pocket sized notepads, (again, there seem to be more of these than most people would think necessary) and pens (a lot of pens).  Last Saturday, a new pen showed up in my bucket.  Not just any pen, though, a combination pen / flashlight*, a delightful little gadget.  My wife, who understands me better than she should, left this little gift for me, without saying a word.

Of course, this made me very happy.  This is like something Batman would have on his utility belt.  This was something 007 might use.  A gift from the gods of functional, wonderful, unique items.

But, without putting it to some use that required both tools being used simultaneously it was only a pen, with a flashlight.  I decided to take it for a spin and see what it could do.  Should it be a Batman inspired test or something from the annals of espionage?  Not relishing a climb up the side of a building to confront the Riddler I decided to go the secret agent route.

Since no covert operative worth his salt would ever be caught dead writing a secret note in the evening, no matter how dark it was, the plan was to get up, around 2:00 AM, creep down the hall into the restroom and write a note that someone would find the next morning.  The note would be "Don't wake me until after 10:00, please, these nighttime ops are killin' me."  Everybody would have a good laugh, and the pen \ flashlight would have proven its worth.

Digging around through a bucket full of knives in the middle of the night to find the appropriate paper did not seem very smart, so I secreted a note pad into the bathroom in an inconspicuous place.  It was great, no one would ever see it (it was such a great place to hide a note pad it actually made me giggle a little bit, in a dangerous secret agent way, of course), and the plan was in motion.

I sat there, waiting patiently, until bed time.  Suddenly, my wife said, "who taped the notepad to the back of the painting?  It makes it hang funny."

"Oh, that," I said, thinking quickly, "it isn't a note pad, it's a cushion, I read where you should have one on all paintings, in case of earth quakes.  I just started with that painting"  Sometimes my resourcefulness is so impressive maybe I should have been a spy.

She rolled her eyes up in head so far it had to be painful, and sighed in a way that sounded like she was actually in pain.  It seemed a little familiar, but I can't put my finger on why, exactly, maybe it was just deja vu.

That night, about 2:00 in the morning, I woke, crept without a sound, well not too much sound, down the hall to the restroom to write a note.  This was going to be great!

 Sadly, the people who made this put the pen and the light at different ends.  So when I turned on the light to write my "secret" note it was shining right in my eyes, with a burning, white hot intensity that caused so much pain I became disoriented, and stumbled around, knocking the painting off the wall.  Fortunately, it landed on my foot so neither the frame or the glass broke.  Though it is going to take some time for the foot to heal, those corners can be so sharp, nothing seven stitches can't handle, though.  But, the agony was so intense that I almost blacked out, thinking quickly, (like a good spy should) I grabbed the shower curtain, to slow down my descent into the tub.  This was only marginally successful, but, it  probably kept the concussion from being too bad.

But, my wife, my delicate little angel, came to save me.  Standing in the doorway, and flipping on the overhead light, almost as bright as the sun, and asking "what in the heck are you doing?!?!?!"  She asked, the concern obvious in her voice.

She is so good to me, she said I could have the note pad back in two weeks, and the pen as soon as the stitches are out.  I am so lucky.

* Just so you know what I have to deal with on a daily basis.  When I showed the guys at work my new pen / flashlight combination Bil said he had one already, on his desk, and he would go get it and show us.  Saying he would be back in about 20 minutes.  Then he asked if he could borrow a roll of duct tape and a pen, and a flashlight.