My morning routine is simple, after I park my truck I unlock the shop door then run through my setup for the days business - which leaves the difficult task of trash.
Every night of the year critters drive by and throw their damn empty beer bottles, fast food bags, used condoms, crumpled cigarette packs, spent shell casings (really) out their car windows onto my shop's lot. Which leaves me, plastic bag in hand, a ticked off sanitation worker.
After I've policed the grounds I normally drop the mess into two large trash containers, blue bins. Couple of weeks back I opened the lid and found a very nice old Vornado fan. It was a small unit, heavy with brass and aluminum with its original electrical cord, and at first glace seemed perfectly fine, but on closer inspection I found the fan bent just ever so slightly.
It was mine.
I adjusted the fan blade, took a screwdriver to her six support screws, topped off her two oil wells with twenty weight and connected her to a bit of electrical juice. She hummed like the day she was born.
Someone had dropped her. The little Vornado fan now has a place in my family room. Isn't it amazing the treasure we find in unexpected places.