No, I'm not trying to channel Alan Moore, but I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about the influence of one's parents. Today was special in that I was out replacing the roof of the horses' lean-to on my "honey-do" vacation, but today was certainly not unique.
Throughout the spring and summer I've consciously noted the pleasure and satisfaction that derives from having a reasonably organized toolshop, and the utility that having that delivers. My wife requests that I tackle a minor home repair job, and I'm able to quickly accomplish it.
Some of my favorite memories stem from working with my father in his shop. One of the centerpieces of that shop was the pegboard "wall" that he had made to hold the majority of his hand tools. Knowing from first hand knowledge that such a wall existed was always a mental barrier to me when Fiona asked me to complete some fairly trivial household tasks, simply because I didn't have access to it.
However, this year saw me taking over about half of the floorspace of the barn for my "Mantown" and one of the first things I built was my own pegboard "wall". Since then my response time on household repairs has diminished dramatically, and I'm quite a bit more content than I've been in years.
Life is good.
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