A Bathtub Journey: The Cost of NK Woodworking Dreams
So there I was, sippin’ my morning coffee on the porch one breezy afternoon, thinking back on that wild project I undertook last summer: building my own bathtub. Yeah, you read that right—a bathtub! And not just any old tub. I had my heart set on an NK woodworking masterpiece, all handmade and glorious. But man, did I bite off more than I could chew.
You see, I’ve always had a knack for fixing things around the house. I can patch drywall, and I’ve repainted the kitchen more times than I can count. But a bathtub? It felt more ambitious. The idea sprouted when I saw a YouTube video of some fella crafting this stunning wooden tub. He made it look as easy as pie. So, armed with a little inspiration and a whole lot of naivety, I dove headfirst into the deep end.
The Dream Takes Shape
First, I had to figure out where to even start. My garage was filled to the brim with tools, but I had never tackled anything quite like this. I found myself down a rabbit hole, researching wood types. I quickly settled on cedar. The smell of it just drew me in; it’s so earthy and fresh. Plus, cedar’s naturally resistant to moisture, which is a big deal when you’re dealing with a bathtub.
Honestly, I started to get a little giddy with excitement. But boy, did that excitement turn to confusion when I hit the store to buy the wood. I was totally unprepared for the price tags. I could’ve gotten a solid, run-of-the-mill tub for what I was about to spend on cedar boards. As I walked through the lumber aisles at the local Home Depot, I almost put them back. It felt ridiculous, like I was spending grocery money for a tub I wasn’t sure I could even build.
Missteps and Learning Curves
Once I had the lumber loaded up and was back home, I felt like I was on top of the world. But reality hit hard when I made my first cut. I was trying to be meticulous with my mitre saw, but my eye for angles was, let’s say, not the best. I ended up with jagged edges and, oh boy, let’s not even talk about how I nearly amputated my thumb. Safety glasses? Yeah, I think I remember swiping them off the workbench and never putting them on. Mistake one—should’ve known better!
Once I bandaged my thumb up, I had a long sit-down where I seriously contemplated whether I should just buy a tub from a store. I mean, who was I kidding? But somewhere in that moment of doubt, while I was staring at all that beautiful, fragrant wood, I realized I had come this far. I’d invested my time and money into this, so why not see how it played out?
Getting Into the Groove
Somehow, after a whole lot of trial and error, I finally started to make some progress. There’s something empowering about the sound of a chisel hitting wood—it’s crisp and sharp, and I can’t explain it, but it feels like you’re nudging the piece into life. When I finally sanded down the edges and saw the smooth surfaces, I almost laughed out loud. It looked like art!
But as I assembled the pieces, I realized I hadn’t really thought about drainage. I mean, I was so wrapped up in making it pretty that I forgot about the basics! I sat there scratching my head, debating whether I should just drill holes and hope for the best. And then it hit me: I’d have to call in my buddy Steve, who actually knows what he’s doing. So, I gulped that pride down and shot him a text.
Steve came over with what felt like a toolbox the size of a car, and just seeing his organized chaos made me feel better. Together, we figured out a way to integrate a drainage system seamlessly. When it all finally clicked, that laughter I was talking about? Yeah, it was back in full swing.
Final Touches
After weeks of frustration, triumph, and maybe a couple of tears, I finally put the finishing touches on my NK woodworking bathtub. I gave it a few coats of waterproof sealant, and let me just say—the smell was intoxicating. It felt like I was standing right in the middle of a forest after a rain.
And then came the moment of truth: filling it up for the first time. I was practically pacing next to it, half-expecting it to burst or topple over. But when that water began flowing, I almost wept. I had created something beautiful out of all that cedar. Sure, it didn’t come without its headaches and moments of self-doubt, but I sat in that bathtub—my bathtub—grinning like an idiot.
The Costs and Reflections
Now, let’s talk numbers for a moment. All said and done, I spent over a thousand bucks—the wood, tools I didn’t have (like a better drill), and sealants. Yes, that’s a chunk of change! But honestly? Looking back, I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Who knew I could’ve gathered such lessons about determination and creativity?
If you ever get the urge to create something out of wood or tackle a wild project like building a bathtub, do it! Don’t get too caught up on the costs or fears of failure. Dive in—figuratively and literally—and just let it happen. You’ll end up with more than just a beautiful piece in your home; you’ll have a story to tell.
