Abject Horror: A Tale of My Life

Not so long ago, in a house not far away. Actually, it was Friday, and my house. I had an opportunity to clean my cans, and I had (mis)used my 9mm can for shooting 22lr when I did a shooting lesson with my Nephew. 2 teenagers with scoped bolt action rifles can still shoot through a ton of ammo very quickly. Having 2 cans allowed me to talk with them in a normal voice and they could understand directions better than with auto-cut out muffs.

 
This was our first Foray with the new Ruger Precision Rimfire rifle. 1500 rounds of 22lr, 9mm and .223 rem later we headed home. I cleared and cleaned the rifles and reloaded the glock with carry ammo, because really, it's a glock. Who cares if it's clean, it still works. I put the cans in the safe and didn't worry about it for a few weeks. Along comes Friday and I decide to clean the cans. I can't for the life of me find the 9mm can. The 223 and 22lr can are right where I left them. I started tearing the bags we used apart, the gun cases and bags, the safe, the benches. I'm pooping razor blades thinking I'm going to have to make a very bad call to a very bad agency.

On my third trip to the safe I pull all the guns out, check the door sill and pull out my body armor, and there it is. It somehow rolled under my plate carrier and to the far corner of the safe.

I still haven't cleaned up the bags and such, I have magazines strewn everywhere, but I have ALL my cans.

Horrific phone call averted.

More on the Ruger rifle in the future. I have 3 other builds that are almost complete, then I can start spending more time on the range. One is a 224 Valkyrie that's built to toss 95g matchkings.