Hooked On Hooks

Somehow Tuesday when I was out and about I think it was either on my way to my meeting with the occupational therapist or to Claire's reception but somewhere along the line I lost my hook. As hooks go this hook was was small and very humble. Like many of my hooks these days this hook was larger at one time but through time became a great deal shorter. Most likely at some point the hook got caught beneath the wheels of my power chair and I snapped the stick in two, leaving a sharp jagged area at the point of the break and if lucky the hook on the opposite end. This particular hook I have grown an in ordinary affection. It was fairly short as my sticks go but the hook itself had long ago lost the rubber like material coating leaving a vicious looking steel hook. The sharp end and where the stick snapped, I sawed the the sharpness of the jagged ends off. I then wrapped the blunt sawed off end with this great plastic material called dycem which is almost sticky. I rubber band the plastic to the end of the stick. It's just a beautiful little stick which helps me pick things up as well as reach for things. Perhaps the most important assist the hook offers me is pushing the “on” button on the washer in the dryer. I also use the hook end of the stick to snag clothes out of the dryer as well as snagging the clothes off the floor when I need to. I need another stick. I only have three or four hooks left. I have a number of broken sticks kicking around that I need to use and turn into the short hooks but to do this I need to set up some sort of a wood-shop. Sometimes, in the early morning when I can no longer sleep but do not quite want to get up. I consider possible alternatives I might use in the creation of a workshop. Maybe during the summer months set up my sawhorse vice behind one of the shops across the street – – if they would let me – – and process my sticks behind the shops. There certainly is the space I would need and no one seems to clean up back there very much so why not? I've even thought about setting up such an operation in my kitchen. The kitchen is certainly big enough. I'm just have to clean up each day following what work I did. Of course ideally finding a place here at the apartments would be perfect but I'm not going to hold my breath.

I really believe in my hooks. I just did a quick search of “hooks” and I feel I might be a little fixated on my wooden, low-tech assistive technology. I use my products that least once a day and usually more from dressing in the morning to undressing at night and even in bad dragging covers over my toes. In the kitchen I use hooks to reach pots and pans, appliances and reach items in the refrigerator. And recently, which is why I'm even writing this post, I've been taking the hooks with me on the road so I can pick up things like my backpack when I drop the pack along the way. I love the idea that I make these hooks from scrap wood from dumpsters. I like the work I put into each stick to make their surface smooth and the hook useful. Somehow manufacturing my hooks makes me feel the same way.