knives and other things (lyn)

It’s raining today; a perfect day to clean and organize.  I tackle my bedroom.  I throw away books I’ve barely read (like David Pogue’s manual on Tiger OS---I’m three operating systems past Tiger, old photos that I now have on my computer, linen paper with my name and address on it from the days when you mailed letters and resumes, and even two old analog cameras. I even get out a stepstool and clean the top of my armoire.

As I’m finishing, I hear a bell ringing outside on the street; it sounds like an old-fashioned ice-cream truck, but it’s not.  It’s a man who sharpens knives.  I’ve heard him before and this time I decide to use his service.  I grab my 6-inch knife that was dull the last time I tried it, and run out in the rain to his truck. There I meet a smiling, impish older man named Dominick.  His truck is fully equipped with all sorts of knife sharpening machines.  I ask him if he really gets much business just driving around and ringing a bell.  He says it’s like fishing.  “See, here’s my bait (and he rings his bell).  I cast my rod and sit and hope.”