A Slice of Life with a Microwave Cart in the Mix
You know, there was a time I seriously thought about throwing in the towel on woodworking, at least for a moment. Just last summer, during one of those sizzling, muggy afternoons that seem to hang over town like a wet blanket, I faced my arch-nemesis: a microwave cart. Yeah, a simple microwave cart. Should be easy, right? I mean, it’s just a box with some wheels… wrong!
Well, grab yourself a cup of coffee and let me pull you into this little saga.
The Great Ambition
So, it all started when I realized that my microwave had taken up permanent residency on my counter, right between the toaster and the ancient coffee maker that should probably be retired. I was tired of the clutter; it looked like a kitchen was being overrun by appliances. After seeing a few posts online about these cute, little microwave carts, I thought, “Why not? I could whip one up.” You know that feeling when you think you can take the world by storm? Yeah, I had that.
I scrounged around my garage and picked up some pine boards I had leftover from a porch project. Smelled like fresh-cut wood every time I pulled them out—there’s something unbeatable about that. The excitement bubbled inside me like the coffee brewing in my kitchen. I sketched a rough design on the back of an old envelope while sipping my first cup of the day. Not exactly architectural paper, but it worked.
Keeping It Real
Now, here’s where it starts to get a little embarrassing. I had this vision of a cart with a couple of shelves, some sliding doors — you know, make it fancy. But I wasn’t exactly armed with the right tools. Oh yeah, I had my trusty circular saw and drill, but for some reason, I thought I was a pro and went without my miter saw. Let me tell ya, cutting those angles freehand was like trying to ride a bicycle with a flat tire.
At one point, I swear I could hear the wood laughing at me. I went to fit my first piece, and it didn’t line up. Not even close. I almost gave up then and there after wrestling with that board and letting out what I can only imagine were some primal grunts. It’s funny; one little error snowballed into—what felt like—a colossal disaster. I’ll never forget the sound of that pine cracking when I forced a piece into place. I hung my head, contemplating whether to just shove everything back in the garage and call it quits.
The Turning Point
But then, as I sat there—surrounded by wood shavings and a bit of my dignity lying on the ground—a little voice in my head nudged me. “How bad do you really want this?” It was a simple cart, but I realized I wanted it more than I wanted to wallow. I took a deep breath, brewed another cup of coffee to fuel the fire, and got back to it.
After a bit of fiddling, I managed to get my angles somewhat right. I’ll tell you, nothing felt better than that moment I slid the shelves into place, and they actually fit. Perfectly. You could say I was feeling on top of the world—until I tried to attach the wheels. Who knew finding the right kind of casters was such a hassle? I ran into the hardware store as if I were on a scavenger hunt searching for treasure. Every click of the cart’s wheels on the tiles made me hope I’d find the magic ones.
Eventually, I settled on some sturdy swivel wheels. When I attached those bad boys, the cart rolled like a dream, and all was right in the world again. But oh man, the smell of wood dust hung in the air, and I could have sworn I heard angelic choirs singing when I stabilized the whole thing.
A Final Touch of Reality
Fast forward a few days, and I found myself staining the cart late one night, right before the deadline of impressing my family during dinner. I used some minwax stain, a dark walnut color—the kind that makes the wood glow like it’s having an evening out. So soothing to apply, rolling it on with a rag like it was brushing a work of art.
Now, I made a bit of a mess, and the stain ended up under my fingernails—again! But when I finally pulled that off the saw horses and positioned it in the kitchen, I thought, “Wow, look at that!” It brought a warmth to the room, a touch of something homemade that felt just right.
The Last Laugh
And you’ll laugh at this, but when I slid the microwave onto the cart for the very first time, it was one of those pure, victorious moments. The thing fit like it was meant to be there all along. My brother came over the next day, took one look at it, and said, “Did you REALLY make that?” And yeah, I beamed with a pride I didn’t know I had in me.
So, if you’re ever in a rut or feeling discouraged about a project—like a microwave cart or whatever else—please just hang in there. Honestly, experience is the best teacher. I wish someone had clued me in on that back when I started. Don’t let a few bumps along the way stop you; just get back in there, try again, and embrace the bruises and booboos along the way. If it can be built in little old me’s garage, it can surely be built in yours.
Just go for it. You might just surprise yourself!
