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Born with a Screwdriver in My Hand (standard:humor, 894 words)
Author: GodspenmanAdded: Mar 01 2015Views/Reads: 736/586Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
I think the biggest compliment I could ever receive or give, for that matter, is what Paul is implying here. Simply put; think before you fall.

Some people understand compliments and take them as they come. Other
people, like myself, wouldn't know a compliment if it hit them in the 
face like a pie. 

For a long time I had been under the impression my wife was giving me
compliments. It takes a husband a long time to understand his wife and 
by the time he understands her, she has morphed into the next level of 
womanhood. The man who thinks he knows his wife needs a psychiatrist, 
preferably a woman psychiatrist. 

For a number of years my wife said to me, which I thought was a
compliment, “You must've been born with a screwdriver in your hand.” 

I never thought of myself as a handyman, but these kinds of compliments
gave me a little bit of confidence in my incompetence. Nothing is more 
dangerous than confident incompetence. 

I try to do a little bit of work around the house, like fixing things
and improve things. However, every time I start to fix something, 
something happens to make it worse. 

Last week, for instance, the front door latch came loose. Some screws
had come loose and it was to the point that you could not shut the 
door. Well, being the bungling handyman that I am, I grabbed the 
nearest screwdriver I could find and tried to screw the screws back 
into the door and fix the problem. Usually, the first screwdriver I 
pick up does not fit the screw I am trying to screw in. I have come to 
discover that there is a screwdriver for every conceivable screw. Who 

I memorized a phrase to help me along that line; Lefty Loosey, Righty
Tighty. Every time I use that phrase I need to think it through a 
little bit to understand or at least try to understand what it means. 
If I turn the screwdriver left, I am loosening it and if I turn it 
right, I am tightening it. What that means I have no idea. 

I grabbed my screwdriver firmly in my right hand and used my left hand
to guide it to the screw that needed to be tightened. However, the more 
I turned it to the right the looser it became. It is not supposed to 
work that way. Either, I do not know my right from my left or somebody 
has messed up this project. Thank goodness, there was no mirror handy. 

Just as I was about ready to rip the door from its hinges and throw it
across the street the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage appeared and 
said, “Another proof that you were born with a screwdriver in your 

At the time, I was not in any frame of mind whatsoever to receive a

She simply said to me, “May I have the screwdriver and would you go in
and see if there's any coffee left in the coffee pot?” 

Since I had come to the end of my rope, I handed her the screwdriver and
headed for the kitchen mumbling incoherently. By the time I got to the 
kitchen, I turned around and there she was following me. 

“What about the door?” I said in a rather grumpy tone. 

“Oh,” she said rather cheerfully, “it's fixed.” 

Several other projects I started ended up the same way. My wife would
cheerfully come to me and say, “You must've been born with a 
screwdriver in your hand.” Then she would laugh most heartily and I 
would smile not quite getting what she was saying. 

One Christmas the truth of this really hit home. I was opening a
Christmas present from someone named “Guess Who” and discovered a 
brand-new screwdriver with my name engraved on the handle. The note 
inside the card said, “Here's a screwdriver to help you in all the 
things you screw up.” 

I must confess it took several days for me to process this Christmas
gift. Then, just before New Year's, the whole thing unfolded for me. 

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