I love rocks. I collected them for a while when I was a kid. I still have a lot of them. When I packed them all up for the move from Chicago to California, I was secretly hoping one of the movers would pick up the box, strain under its weight, and say, “What have you got in here? Rocks?”, to which I would simply reply, “Yes.”
A month or two ago I mentioned to my sweetie that I had always wanted a rock tumbler as a kid, and he must have tucked that info away somewhere because one appeared here on Friday for my birthday. Woohoo!
It is designed for kids, but that didn’t stop me from tossing the included bag of rocks in there, adding the water and the packet of grit, and startin’ her up.
Turns out it makes a lot of noise. A screechy, screamy sort of noise. it sounds a little like something is being tortured. It is not pleasant. It is going to take 3 to 4 weeks for these rocks to get all shiny and nice.
Sure, you’re saying to yourself, “Big deal, just put it in the garage. Nobody will hear it unless they are right next to the garage.” Good plan, yes, but my friend from L.A. is staying here all week and sleeping in the room right next to the garage.
I considered turning it off and starting it again after my guest has gone back home.
It was only then that I read the part of the instructions that said:
“Once tumbling is started you must continue until finished or the contents left standing in the barrel will harden into a cement like cake.”
Mmmm…cement like cake.
I promised my friend I would make her a fancy friendship bracelet once the rocks were done. Perhaps that will make up for the 4 sleepless nights she is about to spend here.
In other news, the Trash Can Bandit has not made an appearance for the last two weeks. I wonder if he’s been reading my blog.