So in a comment on the last post, Ben said,…
This seems like a job for a length of inexpensive chain. Even the strap will wear out from abrasion.
…and I was more than a full sentence into a rather dismissive reply when two stray brain cells and a synapse came home from a sabbatical or something. I began to say that while of course that’s true, in my life there’s no such thing as ‘inexpensive’ chain, as typified by the fact that I hoard scraps to keep the target stand in repair…
And then – as I was writing that reply – and only then did it suddenly occur to me that I did indeed possess at least one long chain. In fact, if my obviously senior memory wasn’t doing me wrong again, I – embarrassingly under the circumstances – actually owned a logging chain.
But I had to go on a lengthy search for it/them, because it/they* was/were so precious that I hid it/them somewhere special against the day when I’d need it/them and then of course forgot all about its/their frickin’ existence.
*See how properly careful I’m being about pronouns? Still a cis white guy, though, so never mind.