Chain Saw Panic

I was gaily chainsawing today, dressed in flannel shirt, boots hard hat etc, very Village People. Suddenly the poor machine screeches to halt. The chain is loose and M has, with him, all the tools that are required to tighten the sprocket (I am so technical nowadays) And so I remain, dressed like an extra for the gay mardi gra and no masculine occupation to do. The darling possums, having started the morning at 5 a.m. engaged in hissing argument and familial division have been cowed into silence. I think they saw the chainsaw as an escalation in violence from the killer vacuum and when I started the chain whirling they exited their sleeping area en masse and sat disconsolately sulking by the chimney until the saw gave up the ghost. They have slunk back in to the roof in eerie silence, only the soft clicking of their claws giving their presence away.