STOP ME BEFORE I HURT MYSELF

REFLECTIONS – updated every Wednesday

by Steve Liddick

I gathered together all the materials I thought it would take to create a small workshop–even though I had no previous experience at building anything bigger than a ham sandwich.

How hard could it be, right? It would be like Legos for grownups.

Never one to be discouraged just because I have two left thumbs, I jumped headfirst into the project. My wife stood by in case I needed a second pair of hands–or an ambulance. The inept can use all the help they can get.

It was going to be a simple work area. I had bought a standing work bench at a yard sale. It was eight feet tall, four feet wide and two feet deep. It had upper and lower cabinets and drawers as well as a flat work counter. I built a redwood foundation to set it on a few paces from my back porch. Redwood resists rot. In fact, archeologists have dug up redwood logs buried deep in the ground for centuries that were still in pretty good shape.

But I realized that if I expected to use it in rainy weather, my work space needed to be covered. So I built a roof that ran from the workbench to two posts I put in the ground.

But even that didn’t seem like much of a workshop and was certainly too small to store anything in. So I added a 10’ x 10’ foundation next to it with a plywood floor and built a small frame structure on it. It was walled in and even had a little window for extra light.

Still not satisfied, I added a 10’ x 10’ side rooflet to store my lawn tractor and shovels and rakes and other gardening items that I avoid using as much as possible.

Now I had, in effect, a shotgun shed where I kept adding as my needs and my compulsions dictated.

In the years since then I have learned that a proper roof needs an overhang so rain can drain away from it without getting the wood siding wet. I didn’t know that then, so the roof is without an overhang and the shed looks like something a gang of kids would build out of scrap lumber to use as their clubhouse. In fact, I put a sign on it, “No Gurls Aloud.”

If I stand back and look at it, I wonder what I must have been thinking. But when I see that everything inside is dry, secure and well preserved, I can’t really complain. If I had it to do over again I would do a lot of things differently, of course. I’ve built other things since then and can now claim some basic competence, if not expertise, in that department.

So there it sits, all ugly and efficient. I’ve stopped apologizing for my earlier lack of knowledge. My little shed does just what I need it to do.

It just goes to show you, if you don’t know you can’t do something, you can sometimes do it.

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