The Daddy-o made himself one rockin' awesome work bench a couple weeks back.
"Wanna make one?" He said.
Um, heckyesIdo, I said. IF I feel like making anything ever again.
(this was during my pantry project, see.)
So he sent me the directions to make my own.
"You'll really need to study these directions," he said. "This is a hard project."
(this page is the easiest part of the project)
Pfffft. Study them?
I was thinking more like meditate, pore over, have a candlelight vigil, possibly even a family fast over those directions.
So. . . I'll bet you can imagine my excited girly clap/squeal/happy dance when the Daddy-o pulled up, with my very own workbench that he put together FOR ME.
That Daddy-o is a keeper, ain't he?
All he left for me to do was the drawers-- everything else was finis.
I'm telling you, I've been like Augustus Gloop in the Chocolate Factory with this thing.
Seriously-- full out "Mandi, sweetheart! Save some for later!" You know, and like shoveling the chocolate into my mouth.
Except it was tools. And you know, into drawers.
Because holy crap, man!
I had no idea we had that many pliers and wrenches. All the screwdrivers, in one place? Has the world gone mad??
On a sidenote, I would like to take this opportunity to mention how funny I thought it was that the Daddy-o had a gallon of wood glue when I was little.
And now, it's like "Excuse me? Does it come in a bigger size? Maybe a keg? Or a drum, perhaps? No? Well, thanks anyway."
So, this bad boy is on castors; I can roll it around anywhere throughout the gay-rage. Set it up next to Jaws-- use it as an extra table to push the wood onto. How cool is that?
And looky what we have here:
a spot just for Mr. Nailgun.
And I took the liberty of adding a hook just for my ear protection.
Gotta have those.
Did I mention that I reaally like this workbench?
And my Daddy-o? Not in that order of importance?
And have I started on something new, to neccessitate the use of said workbench?
Is the Colonel part of the Pentaverate??