On a random childhood memory

I remember when we were younger, whenever my dad was fixing something, be it the sink, the car, the garden, the pond, pretty much everything, my mum, my sister and myself would try to make ourselves scarce. Really scarce. It wasn't a terribly big house, and yet we managed it. For a while. Till we'd hear him holler blue murder and be forced to come out of our hidey holes.

Why'd we hide? Because the moment he sees you, he'd instruct you. Bring me hammer. Bring me screwdriver. No, not this one, the smaller one. No, no, the flat one. Hold this up.

Then you'd end up standing there, holding a pipe or a wire or the chair he was standing on for a good half an hour before he'd say OK, let go, only to be asked to hold another inane object for the next half hour.

Which is why god gave us women and men who aren't very handy at home repairmen. If he wanted us to fix something ourselves, he'd have given us three arms and the patience of Hiroo Onoda.

Hiroo Onoda, the Jap soldier who didn't receive the memo that WWII was over till 1975. Epitome of sheer discipline and patience.