So I have been building a small storage shed for the last month. I have been collecting pallets that I find because I am cheap wait I call it thrifty and I am not buying wood. Woods expensive. And in my head I’m going for that rustic look yeah rustic that’s what I will call it. Now I have been pretty happy with myself. I even got a tool belt! So I am on my way up to my construction site. I’m not going to lie. I have a walk ya’ll. It’s a cocky walk. I am a builder. I have my tool belt on. I got my handy dandy drill. I feel like Tim The Tool Man Taylor. I might even start to scratch and chug a beer. So as I swagger myself on up there and start working on my project I’m feeling pretty powerful. I’m a builder hear me roar. Oh yeah! I’ll be roaring alright. I set all my supplies up and start working on securing the pallets I have already set in place the day before. I have them tacked on with screws but now I need to go in and secure them all to each other and to the base I made. I have my little radio with me and I am jamming to Backstreet Boys, YES I like their songs. “Everybody rock your body, Everybody, Rock your body right” Yes y’all I am really getting into it. So I go to screw in a screw that is in a tight space so I have to angle my arm just a bit and apply some extra pressure on the drill when all of the sudden the drill twarks (is that a word) and just about rips my arm from my body as it throws me into the pallet like I am a piece of unwanted meat. I immediately drop the drill and for a few moments I am just looking at my arm. I mean I am in total shock. How could my arm just do that to me. I feel totally betrayed. Where did it think it was going to go. Why I’m not blaming the drill well the intense pain that is starting to sear it’s way through my body has my mind not working right. I want to move but I can’t remember how. And this entire time I am just standing there looking at my arm. Yep. I think I have torn it from my body. I mean it’s just hanging there.Limp. I killed it! Well buddy it’s been nice having you at my side. Now I am getting mad at the drill. I even start to yell at it. Why did you just try to kill me. Why did you just rip my arm from my body. You stupid drill. I give a good home. I charged you. You have a nice tool belt to live in. And you just tried to assassinate me. So slowly I start to move my arm. Yep it hurts. I really need this arm. So first I move my fingers and than start on moving the arm. Holy crap. Shooting pain. I might faint, This can’t be good. A little more movement. Well it’s still there. I haven’t torn it off it just feels like it. And of course what starts playing from the Backstreet Boys. “Stronger”. Shut up Backstreet. I’m not stronger than yesterday. My drill just tried to kill me. On a small side note hubby told me to wait for him, he would be home shortly. But OH NO. I’m Tim The Tool Man. So now I have to go inside and call him. And tell him Tim is injured. Ugg I just had to be a builder. I could not just wait. Ms. Independent here. Last time I attempted to build something he said he was calling OSHA on me. Well this should be a fun call.