Post by gpag on Jun 6, 2022 8:51:08 GMT -6
I have a hard time throwing stuff away. I am not a hoarder, I think, but as a big DIY person and a woodworker I am a firm believer in the theory that it is better to reuse items then to simply throw them away. Such items range from screws removed from items I’ve disassembled “to save the good parts” before throwing the item remnants away to anything that I think I might be able to use in a future project that will probably never happen. There are old hand tools that may not have any real monetary value but are still perfectly functional (regardless of the fact that I may already have four of them and will never use that additional one I’ve rescued). I have odd pieces of wood cutoffs that I know will be perfect for some bowl or other future wood product.
When we were cleaning the back yard of my parents house, preparing it for sale, my brother and I uncovered a wood beam that was at least 15’ long and 12” x 10”. My Dad buried it to help fill in a low spot. Even covered with dirt it was beautiful. Not a single sign of rot or decay. I’m sure that if I took the time to investigate it I would have found a wonderful piece of old growth oak or hard pine, maybe even maple. A true diamond in the rough. Unfortunately my brother convinced me that I suffered from a real problem and should seek psychological help. He wore down my resolve to save this priceless artifact and it was returned to the earth. I still think of that day and a tear always forms in my eye.
I replaced some old outdoor light fixtures a while ago. Before throwing them away I removed and saved the glass panels because they had beveled edges and I bet I could make something cool with them. I have stacks of log pieces that I am sure I could transform into beautiful wood bowls when I find the time. The list goes on.
I believe I inherited this, what some, like my vision-less brother, might call problem, from my Father. As evidence of this, I currently have three of those plastic shop nuts and bolts storage bins filled to the brim with cotter pins. Maybe he thought there might be a catastrophic world-wide cotter pin shortage and felt he needed to prepare. Doesn’t matter. He had them and now they are mine. Same goes for the drawer full of stone working chisels that would make Michelangelo jealous. As far as I know Dad was not a closet stone carver, yet there the chisels sat for years in a drawer in his shop, and now there they sit, in the same drawer, in mine.
As if the stuff from Dad wasn’t enough, you have to add the tremendous load of what can only be called shit that I have accumulated on my own trough some 50 odd years of working with tools, building and creating things. And now that I have a boat, well! That opens up a whole new world of previously unexplored crap opportunities. I mention all this as introduction to two mysteries of the universe, the answers to which have stymied me for years.
As I walk through the house and shop and garage searching for an item I actually need, I am always seeing pieces of this accumulated junk. No matter what I’m looking for I always manage to see these items. I may even move them from one spot to another to make room but no matter where it ends up it still catches my eye. Then, in one of my infrequent, useless attempts to start getting rid of some of this junk. I will pick up one of these things, say to myself this damn thing has been sitting around here for 10 years just please throw it way. Of course, before taking such a drastic action I’ll probably Google it to see if the item is worth anything, creating a whole new argument with myself on whether the $1.03 is worth the trouble of listing it on eBay. So far the trash bucket usually wins. Now here is the mystery. Without fail as soon as that item sails past the top of the trash bucket a countdown starts. Within about three to five weeks of it’s entering the trash bucket it will become the one item I need that is essential to complete a project. I will then spend days looking for it because I know I see it all the time and it’s been weeks. Who would remember if they actually threw it out or not? The result is that I will not find the item, I will buy a new one to be used once and spend 10 years sitting somewhere, always catching my eye and starting the cycle all over again. Of course, after I buy the new one there is a good chance the old one will suddenly reappear. I swear I hear laughter when this happens.
Conversely, the second universal mystery involves an item that may be old, has probably been used once for a special job but which I know that at some time in the future, maybe not for years, I will need it again. (I’m talking to you Yamaha SX-200 outboard trim and tilt unit hydraulic reservoir cap wrench). Knowing I will need this item again I am sure to store it in an obvious place so I can easily access it no matter how much time has passed. In spite of how much care I take to find the perfect memorable place, some part of my brain, in a merciless fit of rebellion, will find the one spot that will guarantee that this item will never again see the light of day, and convince the rest of my brain that this is the best place ever! No way we’ll forget where it is now! You know the rest. There’s no need for me to explain it.
I know I will never find the answers to why these things happen. Sadly, when it’s my turn to go, someone is ending up with a couple of plastic draws full of cotter pins and a drawerful of lightly used stone carving chisels.
When we were cleaning the back yard of my parents house, preparing it for sale, my brother and I uncovered a wood beam that was at least 15’ long and 12” x 10”. My Dad buried it to help fill in a low spot. Even covered with dirt it was beautiful. Not a single sign of rot or decay. I’m sure that if I took the time to investigate it I would have found a wonderful piece of old growth oak or hard pine, maybe even maple. A true diamond in the rough. Unfortunately my brother convinced me that I suffered from a real problem and should seek psychological help. He wore down my resolve to save this priceless artifact and it was returned to the earth. I still think of that day and a tear always forms in my eye.
I replaced some old outdoor light fixtures a while ago. Before throwing them away I removed and saved the glass panels because they had beveled edges and I bet I could make something cool with them. I have stacks of log pieces that I am sure I could transform into beautiful wood bowls when I find the time. The list goes on.
I believe I inherited this, what some, like my vision-less brother, might call problem, from my Father. As evidence of this, I currently have three of those plastic shop nuts and bolts storage bins filled to the brim with cotter pins. Maybe he thought there might be a catastrophic world-wide cotter pin shortage and felt he needed to prepare. Doesn’t matter. He had them and now they are mine. Same goes for the drawer full of stone working chisels that would make Michelangelo jealous. As far as I know Dad was not a closet stone carver, yet there the chisels sat for years in a drawer in his shop, and now there they sit, in the same drawer, in mine.
As if the stuff from Dad wasn’t enough, you have to add the tremendous load of what can only be called shit that I have accumulated on my own trough some 50 odd years of working with tools, building and creating things. And now that I have a boat, well! That opens up a whole new world of previously unexplored crap opportunities. I mention all this as introduction to two mysteries of the universe, the answers to which have stymied me for years.
As I walk through the house and shop and garage searching for an item I actually need, I am always seeing pieces of this accumulated junk. No matter what I’m looking for I always manage to see these items. I may even move them from one spot to another to make room but no matter where it ends up it still catches my eye. Then, in one of my infrequent, useless attempts to start getting rid of some of this junk. I will pick up one of these things, say to myself this damn thing has been sitting around here for 10 years just please throw it way. Of course, before taking such a drastic action I’ll probably Google it to see if the item is worth anything, creating a whole new argument with myself on whether the $1.03 is worth the trouble of listing it on eBay. So far the trash bucket usually wins. Now here is the mystery. Without fail as soon as that item sails past the top of the trash bucket a countdown starts. Within about three to five weeks of it’s entering the trash bucket it will become the one item I need that is essential to complete a project. I will then spend days looking for it because I know I see it all the time and it’s been weeks. Who would remember if they actually threw it out or not? The result is that I will not find the item, I will buy a new one to be used once and spend 10 years sitting somewhere, always catching my eye and starting the cycle all over again. Of course, after I buy the new one there is a good chance the old one will suddenly reappear. I swear I hear laughter when this happens.
Conversely, the second universal mystery involves an item that may be old, has probably been used once for a special job but which I know that at some time in the future, maybe not for years, I will need it again. (I’m talking to you Yamaha SX-200 outboard trim and tilt unit hydraulic reservoir cap wrench). Knowing I will need this item again I am sure to store it in an obvious place so I can easily access it no matter how much time has passed. In spite of how much care I take to find the perfect memorable place, some part of my brain, in a merciless fit of rebellion, will find the one spot that will guarantee that this item will never again see the light of day, and convince the rest of my brain that this is the best place ever! No way we’ll forget where it is now! You know the rest. There’s no need for me to explain it.
I know I will never find the answers to why these things happen. Sadly, when it’s my turn to go, someone is ending up with a couple of plastic draws full of cotter pins and a drawerful of lightly used stone carving chisels.
