Magnitude 6.4

People down on the ground report being able to see my lost tool bag through 10 x 50 binoculars at a magnitude of 6.4.

It's too far away to see with the naked eye. This raises perplexing questions. Why are eyes naked? How do they see through their nakedness? Does being naked affect their ability to interact with other naked eyes? Do they avert their gaze when meeting another naked eye? How does their nakedness affect social interaction, mutual nakedness and so forth?

Cool.

Like everything in the universe, it is floating.

I am now allowed, by international space law procedural nemesis, to reveal the contents. My bag holds two grease guns, a scraper tool, a large trash bag and a small debris bag. My bag is valued at $100,000. Ok, so this means that the contents are very expensive. Do a financial analysis. 

Grease gun (2) =______

Scraper tool= ______

Large trash bag= _____

Small debris bag= _____

Big bag (30 pounds, 20" by 12")

Total= $100,000

May I file a lost luggage claim?

Grounded humans predict my wandering bag will eventually burn up depending on solar activity. Poof!

Metta.

Grease Monkey

On my space walk to fix a joint while smoking a joint having a look at the joint my grease gun exploded.

It went off in my backpack. Whoosh! 

When you are connected to your module by a thin thread of hose fed air and electronic gizmos wearing a pack and floating in deep dark infinite space, an exploding grease gun sounds like a watermelon being flattened by a truck traveling at the speed of light.

Whoosh!

So the grease gun exploded spraying grease all over my goggles. I was blinded by grease. Am I a grease monkey?

Oh on, not another ancient simian tale. Spare me the details. Just get to the verb. 

My goggles covered in grease, I attempted to wipe off the gunk. Loose space grease acts weird. It congeals in millions of small miracles, losing it's viscosity. I began wiping and swiping with my handy-dandy gloves. I cried for my mother. She'd know what do but she wasn't here with me floating outside the capsule.

Then, the grease played a trick on me. My greasy gloves couldn't hold my tool bag and it slipped out of my greasy grip. Whoops! Off it went, curling slowly, doing a space ballet. Bye-bye tool bag. 

The dudes down in Houston are not going to be happy about this. Believe you me.

Have bag will travel.

What's a poor space walking scientist to do?

Metta.