Fifteen years ago, my husband built a work bench in our basement — constructed to survive a world war, from the solid looks of it. I always said that it would never leave the basement. And then, I got to thinking....
I've always wanted a land-mass in my kitchen: island, peninsula, isthmus, cay, whatever. I had the space, but not the $$$. So I launched my plan to relocate the behemoth, hulking work bench to my kitchen.
At first my boys said No, Absolutely Not, Won't Fit, No No No. I was guessing that they just didn't want to do the work of disassembly and reassembly. But I persisted, and they relented, and tonight, after our Sunday dinner together, they went at it with ratchet and screw-driver and screws and wood glue and plenty of cussing.
At one point I said, You know boys, you're really getting inside your dad's head by doing this, seeing how he made things work.
N. said, Yep, and it was one crazy head!
The best part was listening to their voices drifting up from the basement, their cajoling and man-curses, N. taking the leadership role, giving directions to his older brother, who didn't seem to mind.
I sourced tools, vacuumed bits of sawdust and mostly just stayed out of the way.
An hour and a half later, my land-mass is in place, with an oilcloth covering. I can comfortably seat ten people at it (with ten stools, none of which I own yet). And the cost? $17.99, for the oilcloth. The best deal on real estate this side of the universe.