aluminium toolbox

The gift made of aluminium

I have to give a gift to my study partner, because apparently society has devolved to the point where we must validate every interaction with a gift. Not that I’m complaining; I get a gift too. I gave David a list of appropriate and within-budget items that he can buy for me. I have but one criterion from him; aluminium accessories. I’m not too sure what exactly this means, but I’m guessing that the gift has to be made, at least in part, from aluminium. I don’t think a roll of kitchen foil will cut it (not like Cindy’s 9th birthday) so I had better think outside the box.

I saw David driving his ute to university today, and made a startling revelation. One: he looks exactly like Henry Ford when he was a little bit younger (don’t ask me how I know that, I just do) and two: he is a big fan of aluminum trays.

I thought that maybe it just extended to his ute, and all of the aluminium toolboxes that he has in it (heaven knows why he needs all of that space for his school books). I could be wrong but it seems as though he is actually a fan of the chemical element Aluminium (Al). I will not argue with his conviction, simply state that I’ve never seen anyone defend his choice of apparel quite like a man who walks into class wearing an aluminium hat.

Anyway, I have just the thing to give him for being my lab partner. I told Cindy the idea and she loved it (“thumbs up, perfect choice!” -Cindy, 2018). I am going to get him some roof racks and bars to put up the top of his ute, which I noticed is significantly devoid of anything. He can mount flood lights on them for driving through the bush at night. I highly doubt the gift he gives me will be as thoughtful or perfect as the one I’ve come up with for him.

aluminium toolbox

The Bathroom Kid

So I was babysitting this 8 year-old yesterday. Let’s call him Jeffrey. Seeing as we hadn’t met before, I decided to ask him some questions to try and find out about his interests or potential areas of common ground. We got to talking about what he wants to be when he grows up. He told me he wants to be a bathroom designer, of all things.

I had to work hard to keep from laughing… why is it funny, though? I’ve concluded, upon reflection, that the world surely needs bathroom designers as much as they do astronauts or police or garbage men (a surprisingly common answer among the toddler demographic). And besides, the job title would probably be ‘interior designer’ or ‘project manager’ or something, which sounds less strange for some reason.

Anyway, I mentioned it to the dad as I was leaving, and he said that Jeffrey must have been influenced by their recent bout of home upgrade projects. The major bathroom renovation had ballooned from basic makeover to a full-blown replacement when it became clear that the pipes needed re-configuring. Jeffrey had become fascinated by the designer who’d popped in at regular intervals, brandishing a measuring tape.

That all added up – I’d noticed that he bathroom looked conspicuously new and, well, custom built. Is it possible to tell if a bathroom is one of a kind? I think it is, particularly when the bathtub is like none you’ve ever seen in your life. The kitchen, too, looked rather fresh – apparently that had just recently been overhauled, too, although Jeffrey hadn’t taken nearly as much interest in its designer (or its marble-topped floating island, for that matter).

It’s not easy task getting a complete kitchen replacement. Melbourne is well known for having some of the best designers for kitchens so I’m not super concerned. Juggling a kid and a baby sounds like a pain in the neck with everything else going on. But then, this whole family seems to share a mutual fascination with interior design, which might make the process a bit more tolerable. That, and they have an absolutely killer bathroom to retreat to.

To quote young Jeffrey: “The bathroom is the most tranquil place in the house.” I couldn’t agree more.