"Nylons, woman." I could tell you that she jumped right up and rushed to do my bidding, but she didn't. She commented once about being wasted, nay, destroyed.
Then she rolled over on her side, away from me, and said, "Start on the back door, John."
Whoops. I was out of charge again. But I wanted to see her put on her nylons. But, what the hell. "Okay, Tamara." Down stairs I went.
When drilling through a door for a doorknob set or dead bolt, you always drill from both sides. Actually you're sawing a circle, but with a drill bit to guide the round saw as it spins in the electric drill. The guiding drill bit protrudes further than the round saw, so it pushes through the other side of the door before the saw cuts through. This is good because it allows you to move the electric drill around to the other side of the door and drill/saw the opposite direction, preventing the door from splintering when the saw pushes through. I tell you all of that because I drilled from the inside of the back door first, then went outside to drill in the other way. The door was closed so I could push against it with the hole saw in the electric drill, and soon the whole disk of wood that the hole saw was cutting began to spin, meaning I had connected through. I pulled the tool back exposing the new hole in Tamara's door for the new dead bolt. Looking through to examine the cleanness of the cut, I see a nipple. A pretty nipple. One I would like to suck on. But when I opened the door, the robe was back in place and Tamara was no longer near the door. That is to say, Tamara in black high heels, dark colored stockings, a short teal-blue satin robe and radiant, wavy hair, was no longer near the door.
"Wow", I said, intelligently. But I guess she understood it was meant to be a tribute.
"Just because that worked once doesn't mean that it will work again, you know." Well she lost me with that one. I had no idea what she was talking about.
