Revenge of the Paste Eaters by Cheryl Peck Page B

mother’s house after she went into a nursing home and I found her Dremel, which, he maintained, he had purchased for her and therefore now owned by default. He already had one, but it seemed inappropriate to covet my grandmother’s rotary tool while we were unraveling her life.
    My grandmother requested a Dremel to use to build furniture for her dollhouse. Since her dollhouse was furnished, I can only assume she did use it.
    I have never seen my father use either one of his Dremels. Once, perhaps. He may have used it to cut out the inner lining of a plastic case I bought for a quarter. The inner plastic lining was molded to hold something, but the something had been sold long before I came along, and I did not have, nor could I even identify, the something that was no longer there. I wanted to use the case for something else. So he Dremeled out the inside. It looked like work to me.
    My Beloved has a Dremel, although it appears to have run off to live with one of her friends and has been reluctant to return home. My Beloved used her Dremel once, to her recollection: she drilled a hole in her big toenail with it. Intentionally. This is not high on my list of potential Dremel uses.
    A day or so after I received my Dremel I reported to my dentist to have my teeth cleaned, and as the dental assistant fired up her handheld tool I thought to myself, “I could do this at home—all I really need is a packet of that peppermint-flavored sand she uses . . .”
    I will probably do that right after I drill a hole in my big toenail.
    Dremels are exceptionally handy for sawing off the ends of bolts that stick out and get in the way. Should I ever be pestered by an obstreperous bolt end, I am now prepared.
    The Dremel company appears not to be wholly ignorant of the enchantment factor that endears their rotary tool to potential buyers. Packed inside the Dremel box are three pieces of literature: a small Dremel manual, explaining carefully in three languages that Dremels should not be used in the bathtub or to sever their own cords, and carefully—almost painfully—clarifying the differences between a Dremel and an electric drill; a smaller book of all of the delightful accessories and attachments the proud new owner can now purchase for their Dremel; and a third book—by far the thickest of the three—entitled “175+ Uses for a Rotary Tool.” This presumes that the average Dremel owner purchased their rotary tool in an anticipation of some as yet unidentified need, and it is the responsibility of the manufacturer to clarify what that need might be, thus tidily eliminating the possibility of buyer’s remorse.
    At the Web site www.dremel.com there is an ongoing contest for new and creative uses for one’s Dremel. I have frankly not explored this particular page of the Web site: myself, I have been scrolling around, trying to locate that beige plastic case with the internal plastic moldings designed to nest my Dremel. It appears that one can buy a Dremel in a case, or one can buy an uncased Dremel, but one cannot buy an unDremeled case. This flies in the face of intelligent marketing. Since I estimate that a full 50 percent of all Dremels sold never leave their cases, it seems foolish that the case is the one accessory a Dremel owner cannot buy. It’s a question of need.

tin-foiled again
    upon reflection it has occurred to Babycakes that he could have chosen a better person to feed, shelter, be-litter, and amuse him. He will stay with Mommy, he has decided (if with a slight sigh)—for in truth, he has seconds of genuine fondness for her (particularly those seconds around 3 a.m.)—but it is only because he is a fine young cat that he has learned to forgive her for her faults.
    For instance, she deliberately deprives him of his favorite food group, chocolate. Mommy puts warm chocolate in a cup and drinks it, and she will not share with her beloved Babycakes. Mommy eats soft chocolate out of tiny plastic dishes that are just deeper