Tom sighed and shook his head holding up a weathered hand. “Hold on MacGyver.”

The younger version of himself looked up wide-eyed. “Huh? You know that aint my name, Gramps.”

Tom waved a hand dismissively. “Look, Ronnie, you can’t just slam-bang and jerry-rig something together without a plan. Think of the little sparrows who might nest in your house. Would you want to live in a house just thrown carelessly together?”