Hovering Precision

Today I drove the car into a bank building. It was a simple error in judgement and as that type of situation makes me uncomfortable, I feigned unconsciousness while the bank patrons spilled out into the street to see what was the matter. While I sat there with my eyes closed and head back, I had a vivid memory of being in my grandfathers hunting shed. I watched as he used a tweezer to carefully extract #4 buckshot from a quail he'd brought down in his hayfield. He whistled the tune to Over the Rainbow as he carefully dropped each tiny piece of lead into a deep mason jar.