What NOT to do with a power mitre saw

I wrote this a couple of months back, but never got around to posting it on the blog.  It happened when I was getting the house rewired and new insulation blown in. The job was supposed to take three days.  The electrician was right on schedule.  The insulation people were not - due to repeatedly blowing out the motor on the blowing machine and having no spares available.  The following occured around day ten or twelve of the three day job - as I watched the insulation company pull out of the driveway around noon, once again leaving a broken machine in my carport.  It was a day that only got worse:  

One should never make quick decisions that involve the use of power tools when one is frustrated and pissed off with tradesmen.  I err on the side of caution where power tools are concerned, and so far I’ve never cut off a limb or blinded myself with a woodchip through careless use of tools.  This time, however, I messed up (pun intended) big time.  

I had the power mitre saw out for some work I was doing on the shed while the electrician and insulators were working in the house.  As the insulation truck pulled out of the driveway, job again incomplete,   I popped into the house to see all was in order.  

That's when I had a not-so-brilliant idea.  In the last big bag of  frozen beef neck bones I bought for Eddie were some that were far, far too large for him. 

Y'mean they were bigger than THIS one?
Yum!

Let’s just say no matter how simple it might seem to take frozen meaty bones and slice them in halves or thirds with the chop saw, it is never a good idea.  

No, I didn’t get injured, and the bones didn’t go flying – but it did take me the next three hours to take the machinery apart and clean every nook and cranny of the meat and fat that had melted from the heat of the saw blade and blown into each tiny convoluted crevice, of which a power mitre saw has many.  

By the time I was comfortable that I wouldn’t find the machine crawling with maggots (one of the few living critters I hate more than slugs) within a day or two,  that saw was so shiny and clean I could have sold it ‘as new’ and bought myself the larger, sliding arm one that I’d really like.  Y’know, just in case I missed a spot and maggots appeared anyway. 

The culprit - or is it the victim?

But, alas, I have no money for new and improved tools, so the only logical thing to do was to phone a friend and invite her to commiserate with me over an evening of pizza and beer.  Cheaper than a new saw, more reliable than tradesmen, and a good way to end the day.