Ode to a tool #1: Cold chisel

Ahh, the ubiquitous cold chisel. Seven dollars of hardened steel. When I need one, I have one. Have had one, apparently, for a long time.

As I walked down to the garage last night to dig in the third drawer down of my tool chest for my trusty cold chisel, I remembered how it was one of the first hand tools I bought when I started remodeling our old house. I bought it when I decided to rip up the God-awful tiny square tile that adorned the Jack & Jill bath we'd ultimately completely gut and remodel before moving out of that house.

There it sits, bright and blue feeling all accomplished, on the seat of the ol' toilet. That photo is from 2006. Almost twenty years ago. The chisel now is a little worse for wear but still kicking. It's pretty indestructible, after all.

It's interesting to me, thinking of all the tools I've used. 

It's no secret I heart tools. Of those in that photo, I still own every single one except for that putty knife with the black handle. Someday I may have to write an Ode to the crowbar that's over in the corner next to the floor scraper (which, yep, I still have). That thing gets used. A lot. The crowbar, not as much the scraper.

The reason I broke out the ol' cold chisel was because we're doing some tiling work in our kitchen and cutting cement board is atrocious. It's much better to score and snap, or for outlet boxes and plumbing stubouts, score and pound with a hammer and a chisel.

It's cool doing projects where I find myself needing a tool, then just heading down to my shop in the garage and pulling it out of some nook I have it stashed. Using it, then putting it away, for another project maybe next week. Maybe in another almost twenty years.