Ten hours! Ten bloody hours! I have no idea when I last slept for ten hours in one night.
But my sincere sympathies for the night before.
Ha, tools.
I have my own special set, after the morning when, due to school and nursery pick-ups, and the need to feed the dog and hang the laundry before I could begin, I had about an hour and 3/4s to cut a batten to size, screw it to a window frame, staple on some velcro and hang a blind.
I had tidied all the tools not long before.
I could not find the screwdrivers I needed. They were not in the correct tool box. I eventually found them in completely the wrong place.
I also found the small hacksaw in a different wrong place, with no blade.
I looked for blades, but there were none left.
No sandpaper of the right gauge.
There were at least staples in the staple gun, when I finally found it.
By this time it was time to go and do the nursery pick-up. I was livid. I had wasted a massive chunk of my valuable child-free morning finding tools - a job that should have taken 10 minutes.
A few days later I went to the largest ironmongers in the district and bought myself not only a full set of the basic essentials (hammer, slot and Philips screwdrivers, small hacksaw with blades, pliers, etc) but a toolbox to store them in. I hid the whole lot from DH.
Of course, he eventually found out about it, and at various times has asked to borrow things when he can't find his. A while ago I picked up a hammer he was using. 'This is mine,' I said. 'WTF is it doing here?'
'It must be mine. It was with my tools,' quoth he.
'Oh no it is NOT yours. It is MINE. The ones you call yours were in fact my father's, c1960, not this snazzy modern number.'
I swear, I'm going to buy green nail polish and mark every single one of my tools - I have acquired more since, including a very nice tape measure.
Sorry. Rant over.