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Columbia Gas Dept. GAS LEAK or GAS SMELL Contact Numbers 24 hrs/ 365 days 270-384-2006 or 9-1-1 Call before you dig 
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Carol Perkins: The Magnet Previous Column: The Porch Lights By Carol Perkins When Jon visits, he sleeps in the "CAVE." The basement bedroom is as dark as a dungeon, so he sleeps soundly except for the sound of feet from above. The morning following his CAVE adventure, he announced that something had to be done. "Mama, there are pins and needles all over the floor down there. Have you forgotten having to have surgery to get a needle out of your foot?" I hadn't forgotten, because he was less than two weeks old. "There aren't any needles on that floor," I declared, but from my sewing sessions in my sewing room, I knew pins were buried in the carpet that could only be removed individually. "You need a magnet," he said. I told him I had a small one, so he vowed to ship a larger one before I hurt myself. A package arrived a week later. "What have you bought now?" Guy asked smugly with that look that needs wiping off. "It's addressed to you," I said as I handed him the box. After the back and forth of declaring he had ordered nothing, I said, "Well, open it." Inside was a roller magnet the size of a sweeper broom used at ballgames (almost). It would pick up every pin in a sewing factory. When Guy put it together, he couldn't get the handle above the height of a three-year-old. "This is for a child," he said as he bent over to try it out. I sat in a chair, put both feet on each side of the roller, and pushed until the handle extended. I love it when I do that. Down to the basement we went. He rolled it across the carpet, back and forth, and caught four pins and a barrette. With the pins trapped in the fibers of the carpet, I doubted this mammoth magnet roller would pull them out. Before Jon comes back, my goal is to pull the pins out of the floor, but that will require getting down to them. That's why they are there in the first place. Maybe he can buy one of those low stools so I can roll around and pick them up. My luck, the chair would flip and I'd break a hip. Somehow, that would be his fault. You can contact Carol at carolperkins06@gmail.com. This story was posted on 2025-02-07 10:26:03
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Have comments or corrections for this story? Use our contact form and let us know. More articles from topic Carol Perkins:
Carol Perkins: The Porch Lights Carol Perkins: A Face with the Voice Carol Perkins: Sounds of Aging Carol Perkins: Be Shed Of Carol Perkins: Miss Christmas Happiness Carol Perkins: The Perfectionist Carol Perkins: Hip-Hop Nutcracker Carol Perkins: The Window Carol Perkins: Away They Go! Carol Perkins: Thanksgiving View even more articles in topic Carol Perkins |
 
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