My name is Dean and I am a BFD addict. All summer my life has been controlled by chunks of wood. I have fooled myself into believing I was in control. I thought I could stop working on the BFD at any time. I was positive I could be at home for one full weekend without the uncontrollable urge to sort, inspect and touch wood until the perfect board is found. I thought I could resist planing this newly discovered perfect board on my awesome jointer/planer until it was so soft and smooth I could rub it along the beard-free portion of my face (or maybe the larger area on top of my head) with no worry of slivers. I told myself I could stop vacuuming stray specks of sawdust from this chunk of wood any time I chose. There was no doubt in my mind I could say no! when my friend cried out for waterproofing to bring forth the soft lustre of her grain. I believed it when I told my wife it would be easy to stay out of the garage for one whole weekend. I promised I would not touch one power tool this Labor Day weekend.
I am a BFD addict. I cannot stop. Help me....
Fessing up update: Okay, I wrote that. But I'm absolutively, positively, no-doubt-about-it sure that's what Dean WOULD have written if he could have. I've heard admitting you have a problem is the first step.◦
1 comment:
Ah, Dean, 37 years of marriage and the Honey-Do list now is addictive. Poor soul! You need to go out into the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights and lick some rocks.
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