Well, a dry one would have!

In any event it was over in 3 or 4 minutes and the remaining ride home on the washed streets was a most enjoyable end to a 25 mile ride.

I have a lot of tools and I like having them. So! Please don’t ask to borrow them as I will be anxious until they are returned.

Despite having her own tools Jeanne asked me today if I knew where a hammer was (I bought her her own tools long ago because I don’t want mine scattered throughout the house). I replied that I did not know where HER hammer was but I knew where MINE was. In a very shy voice she asked if she could use it. I said I wanted it put back and she said that it would be; giving me a look that meant how could I even think otherwise. I told her where my hammer was and she ran off as happy as she could be; leaving me standing there with the feeling I had just made a very big mistake. I will now have to find somewhere else to hide, I mean "put", my hammer.

I look for Jeanne and find her in the bathroom:

Me: Where is my hammer?

Jeanne: I’m still using it.

OK, I return to our house guests Jim and Janis, i.e. long-time friends from Texas.

Later we all go out to dinner with other friends and have a great time. When we come home I don’t see the hammer in the kitchen so I check to see if she put it up: Uh-oh, not there.

Me: Where is my hammer?

She starts running toward the kitchen and I take off after her. She pauses at the kitchen bar, looks around, then:

Jeanne: I know where it is.

She dashes towards the dinning room but I catch her just before she reaches the table. I hold her hands, pinning her against my chest with one arm (felt good) while fishing the Casio out of my shirt pocket with the other and taking the picture, for evidence.

I release her; she grabs the hammer and heads for my tool closet, proving me wrong, i.e. that she would put the hammer back where it belongs.