It was not a surprise to me to find the fishing pole and tackle box in disarray. After moving across Northern Minnesota and then moving 1200 miles to East Tennessee in moving vans, I did not expect to find the tackle box with lures laying straight in their compartments and line untangled. I found melted bobbers, a jungle of lures and melted fish attractant in tubes resembling chap-stick tubes. I expected that.
Tonight, I am trying to make sense of the twisted lines and lures in preparation to take the kids fishing in the morning. The cat is no help. The last thing we need is a hook in the paw. She seems to understand that better than most. I hope that I keep hooks out of the kids tomorrow, too.
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