Bob was over yesterday, and the two of us did some setup work in the basement – setting up some 2×4’s in place, tap-conning them to the cement in preparation for some wall studs.
Over the course of our time in the basement, I kept taking my knife out and putting it back in my pocket. Later that night, as I was upstairs changing out of my work clothes, I pulled not one but TWO pocket knives!
I’m not sure when this happened, or how this mixup occurred. Bob and I both used to have the same knife (mine was a gift from him). While I’ve had mine for ages, his gets more regular use – one got broken on the job site, and replaced with another. And eventually, Bob got an entirely different style of knife.
And I guess somewhere along the line, his knife got mixed up in my rotation, and has been kind of living a double life here at our house? It’s like being a parent to a young child, only to discover that they have an identical twin… and that twin has been living under your roof, without you noticing.