Hit Squarely!

Hit Squarely!

“Tok … tok … tok… …. … Yeow!!!!!”

You might be wondering what brought me to such painful grief. Well, I brought it upon myself.

It actually started like this one fine, lazy, Sunday morning. Having gone through the three newspapers which are delivered to me on Sundays, I contemplated deeply on the country’s plight for about four and a half minutes, tut-tutted when I read about today’s youth and commiserated with Dagwood Bumstead on his never-ending troubles with Dithers. There was nothing else in the papers which could hold my attention. I sat there, at a loss, twiddling my thumbs, my mind blank, seemingly in a vacuum.

I gazed into space for a few moments but there was nothing to see there except empty space. I found it extremely boring. I closed my eyes for a couple of minutes but there was an inky blackness which unnerved me. I tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come, not at such short notice. I had had a good night’s rest and was feeling fresh as a daisy. I opened my eyes again and sighed.

My better three-fourths, busy as usual with her kitchen chores, saw me sprawled limpidly on the easy chair as she was passing by, and prodded me with the back end of a ladle.

“Why don’t you do some useful work for a change? You could dust the furniture or sell off the old newspapers or, better still, put up all those pictures you got framed last month.”

Now that last suggestion sounded like a good idea, something which would keep me busy for a couple of hours at the very least. Suddenly energised, I sprang out of the chair and headed off to get together the tools and tackles.

I keep a tool box handy for just such purposes. From it I gathered a handful of nails and wooden plugs, a carpenter’s drill, a hammer and my trusted tape measure. First I stood back and surveyed the living room wall facing the sofa where I would hang my favourite picture. Then, tape in hand, I measured out the width of the wall at a little above eye level and using my time tested knowledge and experience, I calculated and marked off with an “X” the exact centre, give or take a couple of millimeters. I stood back a couple of steps and checked out the spot again. It seemed perfect. Satisfied with my preparatory efforts, I proceeded further. With the carpenter’s drill, I carefully drilled a hole about a quarter of an inch in diameter and an inch deep. I hammered a wooden plug into this hole. It was now ready to take the nail.

I chose a one-inch nail which had a flat round head with a large striking surface, a smooth and straight shank and a sharp point. I gave it the once over to make sure that it justified its selection. It did, and I decided to hammer it in without further ado.

I held the nail with the point at the dead centre of the plug with my left hand and hefted the hammer in my right. After a couple of practice swings to get the feel and the follow through just so, I went for it. Starting from somewhere behind my right ear, I brought the hammer down smartly. It struck the nail squarely – my thumbnail, that is.

“Ayyoeow! Yeow, yeow, yeow”, I screamed, dropping the hammer. It fell on my big toe, causing me to yelp again, “ow, ow, ow”. I hopped around for quite some time till the pain subsided somewhat. Naturally I had to suspend all hammering operations with immediate effect.

What started off as a fine, lazy Sunday morning ended on quite a painful note for me. I retired hurt for the day, all thoughts of hammers, nails and picture frames put aside for the moment.