I only took Woodwork for a year in high school.
It was Year 7. I built a CD rack.
Well, that's what others built.
I mean, I followed the same instructions with the same tools and the same pieces of wood… it's just that mine was less, well, polished than the others — and I mean that in the euphemistic, rather than the literally lacquered, sense.
Oh, it still held CDs, but it wasn't the straightest, most attractive piece of woodwork you've ever seen.
I have some vague recollection that we made something else, too. My mind may well have simply blotted that out, to save my ego.
I was able to choose my own electives in Year 8. Woodwork wasn't one of them.
I'm not convinced that was a bad idea. I have little-to-no natural skill, and so as a subject that would have counted toward my academic average, pursuing Woodwork could only have dragged me down.
Still, there's a part of me that envies those people who can build things. Fix things. Make things.
Maybe it's a primal urge, or maybe a version of the grass being greener somewhere else. Perhaps just a romantic notion of a time gone by.
My grandfather built the house my mum grew up in. And countless other things.
I can't even make a decent paper aeroplane.
Still, in recent times, I've been trying to make some sort of amends.
A few years back, before we moved house, I enlisted the help of some family members and replaced our back deck. When I say 'help', I was essentially the labourer and keen watcher.
Still, it must have done some good… I was able go do the same thing, solo, at our current place given the state of our back deck here.
And I've done other bits and pieces, as the need has arisen.
Still, it was probably a little optimistic of me to decide to build our own chicken coop and run to replace the one that has been here for what seems to be a couple of decades, and to which a fox disastrously gained access a few weeks back.
But I had to do something. I guess.
And I had been thinking about relocating the chickens for a while now.
So, armed with a collection of power tools I'd amassed along the way, and with a few YouTube videos under my belt, I got started.
The first weekend, with the help of my young bloke, we concreted in the posts.
They weren't completely straight. Nor completely square.
We probably should have dug a couple of the holes a little deeper, too.
But they were in. That was a start.
The next weekend, we screwed on the top rails, and started to frame up the coop itself.
I have to say, YouTube is a really good resource. So are the blokes (and ladies) at Bunnings.
I was pretty happy with how it was taking shape.
Oh not 'actual proper builder' happy. Just 'not bad for a bloke who shuffles spreadsheets for a living' happy.
It's important to have appropriate expectations!
This weekend just gone, it was time to, among other things, put some plywood walls inside to protect the chickens from the elements.
I bought the plywood (and yet another load of 2x4s) from Bunnings. Yes, the people there almost know me by name these days.
Plywood is heavier than you'd expect, and its dimensions make it unwieldy to carry.
But I got it home, put it on the sawhorses, and started cutting pieces to size.
Except that I quickly noticed the offcuts weren't just plywood.
I imagine you're already ahead of me.
If not, here's today's carpentry tip: when cutting wood on a sawhorse, make sure the line of the cut is outside the line of the sawhorses underneath.
One positive is that they're now slightly easier to put away, in their newly more compact (read: shorter) size.
Oh, and I have some new offcuts, should I need them…
I shared this very short story on Twitter and Facebook over the weekend, much to my followers' delight. Some were sympathetic. Others just enjoyed the laugh.
One, delighting the investor in me, asked (tongue in cheek) for some investing lessons.
I thought of trying to torture a whole list of investing ideas just enough to fit them in, but decided not to do it.
Still, a couple did come to mind.
First, yes, margin of safety.
Any margin, really, but leaving enough room to be wrong is important.
Second, be thoughtful when designing your plan, then execute with confidence, but the humility to recognise when things don't seem to be going to plan. I do remember thinking 'this section of plywood feels to have more resistance…' as I unwittingly shortened the first sawhorse.
Third, assume things will go wrong. I bought more wood and screws than I'd need, figuring I'd be encountering mistakes or just unexpected problems as I went along. (No, I didn't buy extra sawhorses… no plan is perfect).
Last, as one of my Facebook followers, Damian, said, I should have set the depth on the circular saw blade properly before cutting.
Which wasn't an investment tip, but it's the one that felt like a good metaphor.
It covers a lot of ground: assessing the situation properly, understanding the tools/options at your disposal, and using them the right way to maximise your returns without taking undue risk.
The good news is that there was no meaningful damage (other than to my pride) and I was able to keep using the (shortened) sawhorses for the remainder of the weekend.
The coop and run aren't finished yet — I'll need a couple more weekends, I think. So if there's anything you think I need to know, please feel free to let me know, so I don't have to send a second confessional email next Monday.
Oh, and if my experience at (and my spending in!) my local Bunnings is any indication, Wesfarmers might just be shares worth buying!
Fool on!
