“Where did you put my fucking screwdriver?” he called across the room to her.

“I didn't put it anywhere,” she answered, “You left it on the table.”

Muttering to himself, he walked into the kitchen to find that his screwdriver was, indeed, sitting on the table.

“Stupid,” he thought. He hated putting things together. Hated it. Still, it had to be done. “Can't not celebrate the stupid holiday,”he thought.