No one ever wants to stab someone with a screwdriver. I don’t think anybody ever even means to stab someone with a screwdriver.
This is to say: I stabbed Amy with a screwdriver.
This is also to say: I didn’t mean to stab Amy with a screwdriver.
When our airline changed our flight time for the third time in six weeks, we decided that we were going to just drive ourselves out to San Francisco for this year’s Noted Expo. This meant we got to take another road trip to a trade show. This also meant that I was jolted awake at 2:30 in the morning with the thought of hitting an animal during our early morning drive out of Winnemucca, NV (the only Nevada town to be named after an indigenous person, I discovered in the hotel’s bedside table booklet). If only I had known what to be worried about.
California traffic came as advertised: slow moving and aggressively incompetent. But as we emerged from the Muir Woods, the iconic San Francisco fog lingered over the bay and made the towers of Golden Gate Bridge appear as though they were floating in air — and that made the other drivers on the road tolerable... As did getting to be by the water each day at the Fort Mason Center (aka the scene of the crime).
I’ve been avoiding this...
So, I stabbed my wife.
Here’s why: we were allowed to put holes into the our booth's walls. So Amy and I brought shelves, screws, a screwdriver, and a drill. But we didn’t have anything to start said holes with — meaning I had to take the screwdriver, push on the screws to get them into the walls a bit, then start screwing. This was fine for the smaller wooden shelves that held our the cards. But the shelves holding our Love Bombs required longer screws.
I’m no scientist, but I knew this wouldn’t work out. See, the longer the screw, the more force you have to use to push it into the wall — and the more likely the screwdriver might slip off the screw and right into someone’s finger. Did I mention I woke up at 2:30 that morning?
Well, I stabbed my wife in the finger. Pictured below: the victim + the scene of the crime —
But, trooper that she is, Amy threw on a BandAid real tight, kept working on setting up our booth, then went on to win two Louie awards that night — for Get Well/Support and Non-Religious Celebration — spent the week making sales, and getting to meet some of our west coast store owners.
All this to say, Amy can accomplish more with nine fingers than most can with ten. And I promise I didn’t mean to stab her.
Anyways, here are some more pictures of our booth: