When you're learning to build racks, you make a lotta mistakes. More specifically, you spew molten brass all the hell over the place. You fix your mistakes by filing them into dust. All good and well, but as usual, there are innocent victims. In this case, it's the files. Mine have been beat to shit, thanks to my inneptitude. Don't expect me to get all sentimental and guilty. If they can't stand the heat, they should get outta the kitchen. Anyway, obviously, it was time to spring for a coupla new files, which I did on my way home tonight.
Holy hell, they cut through steel like a stream of hot urine cuts through snow. (Or so I've heard.) I guess I'd gotten so used to my pukey old files that I'd forgotten how crazy much fun filing could be.
But there's something bigger going on here. I feel a certain connection to these new files. I can't explain it, but it's almost like we share the same name.
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