Bourbon, Moths, and a Woodworking Tank
So, picture this: it’s a chilly October afternoon in my dusty little workshop, and I’ve got the smell of bourbon wafting in from the glass I left on my workbench. Yeah, my workshop has its fair share of time-worn charm, but that wasn’t the issue. No, it was the moths. Those little buggers kept flapping around, drawn to the flickering light bulb like it was their last shot at a party.
I had this idea swirling around in my head for a while—an outdoor tank to hold rainwater and maybe give my plants a good drink when I’m feeling lazy about the hose. I figured, “How hard could it be?” Just a few sheets of plywood, some screws, and a bit of elbow grease, right? Spoiler alert: it didn’t quite go down that way.
The Building Blocks
I started with a good chunk of plywood. I’d sourced some good birch from a lumber yard—a little pricey, but this was meant to last. I don’t mind splurging if it means I can save myself from a headache down the road. The soft sound of my circular saw cutting through the wood was oddly soothing. For a minute there, I felt like Bob the Builder—until a moth decided to do its little aerial dance right in front of me. I nearly sliced my finger off swatting at it.
Midway through cutting the pieces for the tank, I realized I didn’t measure my dimensions quite right. I had this mental picture of what I wanted it to look like, but when I laid everything out, it looked more like a bad origami project than a sleek water tank. I sighed, muttering some choice words under my breath. You’d think measuring twice and cutting once would be etched into my brain by now, but nooo.
Lessons in Humility
By the time I was ready to assemble it, the bourbon had kicked in a little, and I was feeling confident—maybe a tad too confident. I grabbed my trusty drill, a DeWalt, which has seen better days and decided then and there I was going to speed through the process. Let’s just say, I overzealously drove screws into the wood. By the fifth screw, I was already yyelling at myself for not pre-drilling. The wood splintered like cheap toast, and there I was, one step away from making my good birch look like a jigsaw puzzle gone wrong.
After staring blankly at the mess I created, I almost gave up. I paced around my workshop, trying to convince myself that it was “just a project.” Just a way to get my mind off things. But inside, I was feeling pretty defeated. Don’t you just hate it when you think you’ve got it all figured out and then the universe goes, “Nope!”?
The Turning Point
But I ended up getting this wild idea—why not embrace the splintered edges? I remember laughing when the piece actually held together after I sanded it down and gave it a good coat of wood stain. The mix of scents from the bourbon and the varnish wafted together, tangling in the air like old friends reuniting. For a moment, the moths seemed to have settled down too, probably tired of my antics.
Getting to the finish line was a rollercoaster. There were days I slapped some stain on, only to wipe it away an hour later because, let’s face it, I wasn’t happy with how it turned out. But then there were moments—like when I finally got the lid to sit just right—where I thought, “Hey, I might just pull this off!”
The Unexpected Reward
Regardless of the mishaps, the end result—it was just… lovely. The rainwater tank turned out a lot better than I’d first imagined, even with all its battle scars. The birch glimmered under the soft autumn sun, and I had to smile knowing I kind of poured my heart into it. I even had enough left over to make a matching bench for the yard.
But the best part? Standing out there in my backyard, moisture-wicking from the tank while taking a long-awaited sip from my bourbon glass. It felt good to see the fruits of my labor, not just in the wood but in the lessons learned.
And honestly, I think the moths approved, too. I mean, they’ve been buzzing around, not like they were there to sabotage my work but to join the little party I had going on in my workshop.
A Lesson to Carry Forward
You know, if there’s anything I wish I could tell my past self while starting all this chaos, it’d be to just roll with the punches. Sure, things might not turn out perfect. You might have moths flapping in your face, screws splitting wood, or a bourbon-fueled confidence that could lead to a mess. But it’s all part of the journey.
So, if you’re thinking about trying something with your own hands—whether it’s woodworking or any other project—just dive in. You might face some hiccups, but I promise it’ll be worth it. You’ll learn, you’ll laugh, and who knows? Those little failures might turn out to be the prettiest parts of the whole experience. Just don’t forget to measure twice.
