Consider it done

Well, my major shop renovation is done. The cabinets came out great and I couldn’t be more pleased.

Now, when I say “done,” I’m talking about what I consider done. I still have to put a few protective coats of poly on the bare wood, and figure out exactly how to arrange the storage, but my wall of shop cabinets is structurally complete. Now, when I say, “complete,” I’m talking about what I consider complete.

You see we all have a different idea of when a project is finished (and when I say “finished,” I’m talking about, well, you know). For me, it’s the Miller Time moment, for those of you who remember those old commercials. It’s the time when you stand back, goal visibly accomplished, arms crossed, smile on your face, cold beer in hand, and about the best you can do is ceaselessly nod your head in a yeah-that’s-what-I’m-talking-about manner that only woodworkers understand. And that’s exactly what I was doing this morning (sans the beer).

Of course, my “done” in this case also means that:

My shop is a disaster, as it always is after a major project like this. Everything that was on or near that wall has been dragged and/or moved higgledy-piggledy wherever I’m least likely to trip over it.

Scraps are everywhere. Dust is everywhere. Empty soda bottles are everywhere.

Of the seemingly 4,467,102 tools that I own, exactly four are still hanging up where they belong. The remaining 4,467,098 are scattered everywhere.

I’ll have to ask my wife to call me on my cell phone because it’s in there somewhere, too. I have no clue where.

Come to think on it, I haven’t seen my wife lately, either.

Till next time,



  • Keith M says:

    I used to work with a couple of guys that you would call “organized.”

    One worked on one thing at a time. If you walked into his office, he would greet you, close the notebook he was working in, put it in its place on the shelf, and clasp his hands on his now-empty desk, then say, “How may I help you?”

    Another had a notebook with an alphabetized list of topics and correspondence, which then told him which notebook a subject was in. Going to that (numbered) notebook, he would open it up, find a table of contents directing him to a numbered tab.

    A third was very big into project management for the 30 or 40 people in his group. About six months after he left the company, the maintenance crew cleaned out his storage area. A large wheeled dumpster in the hallway, filled up, then emptied. There were nearly 1400 notebooks of forms that someone spent a long time to fill out and were now worthless. The empty notebooks were loaded 12 at a time into boxes and donated to charity.

    I have to believe all these people spent much more time organizing than having a more streamlined system and spending a little more time looking for things when needed.

    By the way, I read your Civil War Woodworking book last week. Very nice job.

  • Dan Walters says:

    If you have 4 tools that you haven’t used you couldn’t really be done.

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