What A Tool!

You've heard the old expression: "Not the sharpest knife in the drawer?" How about, "Dumber than a bag full of hammers?" That's a particular favorite of mine. I find it highly evocative, and not just because it paints such a lovely picture. It's also a good way to describe the way that I should be purchasing my home improvement implements.
I'm tough on tools. The most recent victim of my over-zealousness was the pitchfork that I broke while digging in our front yard. When I was finished with it, it had only one tine where previously it had four. The weld that was holding the fork in place gave into the force I was using to pry up some earth under which I had planned to plant some relocated geraniums. Common sense suggests that I probably should have backed off and pulled the fork out of the ground, taking a little smaller bite out of the impacted dirt. But that's not how I do things.
Much to the periodic consternation of my wife, I don't use my common sense when it comes to tools. I break them. It's not a malicious thing. It's just the way I work: real hard. This means that we routinely have to throw away screwdrivers and pairs of pliers. I've broken hammers, which I think gives me a certain air of John Henry. My wife does not share this appraisal of my capacities. She would much rather that I take my time and use my mind to figure things out before resulting to brute force. This vision of hers extends beyond household tasks, by the way.
This predilection toward using up tools has put my family in the position of having to use shovels with broken handles, hiding the "good tools," and putting a cloud of shame over all of us when it comes time to ask our neighbors and friends if it would be okay to borrow this or that. I'm always surprised by the spotless appearance of some of my friends' toolboxes. Nothing is missing and all of the various components seem so shiny and new. I can't imagine what work they must do with them. Maybe the work they do is keeping them pristine in those carefully loaded cases. Taking out a ratchet or wrench would disturb the delicate balance of form versus function.
I truly want to believe that somewhere, in a garage not unlike my own, these people store the tools they really work with. The ones with taped handles, covered with dirt and grime. And the pitchfork with just one tine.