A phone call from my nephew got me thinking....

ANOTHER annoying story from the old days

I "became aware" at who knows, 3, 4? Anyhow, until I was 6, we lived in an old house in a small downtown. In fact this did not have an indoor toilet!!! The only running water was one sink in the kitchen!!! No bathroom!!! Gramps and Dad later remodeled the house when the city put in sewers, and so then there was a bathroom, toilet, and newly remodeled kitchen. and soon we moved out to what had been Gramp's house, which Dad had helped build before WWII, when I was 6 years old

So this is at the town house, I was maybe ? 4 or 5. We had a very small shed, woodshed, with a lean-too addition maybe ?? 6-8ft wide, with a workbench inside. Dad was in there working on something, and I guess I had been pestering him

He had taken a couple of old spark plugs which could be taken apart, and loosened the clamp nut, REMEMBER THOSE??? Of course you don't LOL

So I was putting them into the vise, taking a crescent wrench, and taking them apart and fiddling than back together.

At some point I yanked on the wrench, fell back when it came loose, and sort of fell sideways with my hands outstretched trying to catch myself on the ground. My hand just exactly slid right down the exposed sharp edge of a double bit axe propped up in the corner, cutting the webbing between my thumb and first finger. OFF WE WENT to meet the local doctor, who, me screeming, sewed it up with stitches.