Sometimes the confluence of events are such that you must stop and reflect on how or why the universe works the way it does. Sometimes it, life or fate, is just too darn full of irony and snook-cocking that it is not to be believed.
I lost my battery-driven drill almost two years ago. It was a handy little devil, a Bosch PSR 300 LSI, covering 90% of my needs. When I started renovating the chicken house I decided to use screws instead of nails. I stocked up on tools (most of them were Bosch as I had had good experience with this brand over the years). I chose to use screws instead of nails because I have since learned that working alone on major renovation projects requires a extra pair of hands and since I only have two …. The thing is that clamps, screws with a trusty little rechargeable drill is just the ticket to succeed in almost any project (without that extra pair of hands).
I bought this handy sidekick at Bauhaus, drove home sixty kilometres, unpacked it and voila, the bleeding thing worked for 10 minutes and then stopped. I returned it but I had to drive sixty kilometres back to Bauhaus. No questions asked I was presented with another PSR300. I was reluctant to take a replacement of the same type but did so. I was supremely happy with the device for a good six months. Indeed it was the most handy and useful tool I have owned in quite a while. It fits in the hand perfectly and holds a charge for a long while – enough to give me half a days work. It has enough torque to drive 100 mm screws (into 2x4s. It even also charges very quickly.
Then I lost it. In the garden somewhere. I looked for it on many occasions, many. Indeed I became a bit obsessed with finding it. But it just stayed hidden, under a log, for almost two years.
This morning I found it. It looked as it did when I lost it (see pic). It had been out in the sleet, ice, rain and snow of Finnish weather for nearly two years. I picked it up naturally I squeezed the trigger. Lo it came to life. I perked up immensely thinking that fate was good to me today. I had indeed searched high and low for this wee beastie, many times over the past two years, and in many nooks and crannies. Finally when I realized it was gone forever, I decided to buy another one. I asked around at the many shops I frequent but the model had been discontinued shortly after its introduction. Pity.
I finished the renovation work this morning. Indeed I was cleaning up and had just run after the garbage truck to get in heave in the last trash bin liner into the back of the lorry.
It was about 15 minutes after the run to the garbage truck that I found the drill. I then remembered that in the bin liner I had thrown into the garbage truck was the charger for the newly found drill. My elated cooing became vituperation.
My cleaning up routine was ruthless. When I came to the PSR300 charger I thought that perhaps I should keep it, just in case I found the drill. You never know, I told myself, but then I decided to bin it; after all two years sitting about gathering dust is no fun. Besides, I reasoned, even if I did find the drill it would not work. Surely not.
Ah well. I picked up the drill squeezed the trigger and then decided to see if it could still drive a screw. It did. Damn nice tool. Why the devil did Bosch stop producing such a fine tool? Why the devil did I throw away the charger? And why did I notice the garbage truck that morning when otherwise I never, ever see it. Argh!
The chicken house was a troubling mess. Built in 1921, it was ready to topple over and die a slow death.