"I hate and love this part! Every project has my blood, sweat and sometimes tears in it. I hate to let them go, but love, love, love seeing them in other people's homes!"
This was my facebook status yesterday. And I truly meant it. I love that I get to build furniture. I am so blessed that my husband holds down the fort and I get to spend my days in the garage. I love providing exactly what a customer is looking for, giving them the opportunity to have a say in what color, style and size they want their furniture to be. After all, that's why I started building in the first place.
I am a little picky. Or maybe a lot picky. But I can't fathom spending tons of money on something that isn't perfect for us. And very rarely is something produced from a big box store perfect. And you still have to put it together. Seriously. If I'm going to have to assemble it anyway, why not just do the whole thing myself. At least that way, when the screws don't go where I think they're supposed to, it's my own fault and I waste a lot less time cursing the stupid instructions or store and spend a lot more time fixing it.
But I digress. The reason I started building was to create something perfect for us. And hopefully save some money doing it. And then other people saw it and wanted that too. And I wanted to give it to them. Because no one should have press board in their house.
But loading a project that I've spent weeks building, sanding and staining into someone else's car, to go to their home breaks my heart a little every time. These projects are my babies. I spend my entire day with them. I talk to them sometimes. I kick and cry over them because I can't quite get it right. I drop pieces of them on my toes and jump around screaming at them. And I definitely sweat over them. Especially when the trade winds aren't blowing. Literally, every project I finish has my blood, sweat and tears in it.
And then I get nervous. I know what I like, but did I understand exactly what they're looking for? Did I get the color right? Will they love it as much as I do? Will it fit exactly where they want it to?
So watching them leave kinda sucks.
Then, I get a picture of it in their home. And it fits perfectly. And it matches perfectly. And they are so proud of that one piece. And that one piece will last them a lifetime. And then their kids can have it. And their grand kids, who probably won't want it, but will take it because they have nothing else, and eventually will come to love it. That's why I build furniture. Even though sometimes it makes me cry to watch it leave.
