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A Carpenter and his troubles

I hired a carpenter to help me restore an old farmhouse.
After he had just finished a rough first day on the job,
a flat tire made him lose an hour of work,
his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck
refused to start. While I drove him home,
he sat in stony silence.

On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family.
As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly
at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches
with both hands. When opening the door, he underwent
an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed
in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave
his wife a kiss.

Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree
and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about
what I had seen him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help
having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure,
troubles don't belong in the house with my wife
and the children. So I just hang them up on the tree
every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them
up again." Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in
the morning to pick 'em up, there aren't nearly as many
as I remember hanging up the night before."

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