On this particular weekend I was spending a warm summer day exploring all of the wonders and mysteries of our living room. There was always a certain wonder to watching the sparkling particles of dust drift through the sunshine's rays, blasting through the slats of the Venetian blinds. Of course even during my most occupied of times, I always stayed aware of where I was, in respect to '"the chair"'. There was nothing really remarkable about this chair. It wasn't an antique, or a family heirloom. It was just an old overstuffed chair, whose arms and seat were thread bare from use. There was probably one much like it in the furnishings of thousands of other low-income homes. There was only one thing that made this one chair any more remarkable than the ones in those other homes. This one had the distinction of being designated as. '"Dad's Chair"'. It always had the aroma of machine oil about it. Dad worked in a tool and die shop. Many times he had come home, tired from work, and had. But I didn't get out of the car, I don't think I could handle seeing her in a little bikini right now. Karen came out and was asking me about helping with a fund raiser for the band coming up. As we talked I saw Lindsey come out from the house, in a tee a towel covering her lower half. Soon as she seen that I was talking to Karen, she turned back and went inside.I drove home and went out to my shop in the back. And blasted my music and tried to take my mind off of Lindsey in a bikini.I started my air compressor and started grabbing tools. I had put on some music to put Lindsey out of my mind.I had worked for about ten minutes when my wrench slipped and I punched the rear differential, gouging my hand open. I laid trying not to scream in frustration and pain. I grit my teeth and rolled out from under the car. There was Lindsey! I don't know how long she was standing there, I stood up, and said, "hey!".She just stood there in that green bikini looking at my hand, I had started.
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