More Chronicles of Fail

1. Bought a blade pruning saw last week intending destruction upon the scraggly pine bush in front of the porch. Half of it is dead wood whose very sharp spines catch at all who pass it, meaning the mail carrier and the poor flyer deliverers. I was looking at a dauntingly expensive weapons-grade clipper with the blade that conquered the Amazon*; clerk said I didn't need anything so hi-falutin and handed me a much more compact jobby for less than $20. I attacked the bush Saturday (and got a six inch gash for my pains) and succeeded in opening up large gaps in it. Contemplated removing the whole right half of the thing: it doesn't shield the porch from the view of passersby on the sidewalk, nor does it block the sun more than the ironwood tree does. Began sawing through a main trunk and the tool came apart in my hands.

Form following function, it looks like there should be a nut and washer holding the handle and blade together, but nary a sign of them could I see anywhere. Prof Islamic Studies came over to look with me and found nothing either. (He did however finish sawing the branch for me with his own proper saw.) Did I keep the receipt? No, naturally not. Shall take it in tomorrow anyway and see if they can suggest a nut and bolt. They'll probably suggest I buy another cheap pruning saw.

* We had a Trinidadian staff who periodically went back to visit family and came home one time with a machete. Customs had this and that to say about it: 'This is called an offensive weapon.' Rick shrugged: 'At home, we call it a domestic implement.' They let him keep it.
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