My Poor Neglected Tools

All the damp from last year's floods and the steady sifting down of dust, like the layers and layers falling slowly to the ocean floor have wrought havoc.
Rust.

Normally I love a rusty, crusty surface but, perhaps not so good on my tools.
Ok a date has been made.

Several hours later . . . much better!

Half a box of steel wool, most of the can of WD40 gone, and outa fine sand paper. Some anally retentive types even go on polishing so that the light *blings* off the surface. But I am not that enthusiastic.

The WD40 label assures me that I will no longer squeek, my parts will be loosened and so will my mechanisms. Bring it on! 

I also have . . .

Rough nails and rusted cuticles, very little nail polish, ingrained dirt, sore hands and almost no finger prints.

What, you thought I should have worn gloves?
What kinda namby-pamby sissy wears gloves?
My hands have earned all of the above, rather like my wrinkles, trophies to be worn with pride.