ST Fitting

I remember the time Aunt Betty showed up unannounced, like a storm cloud on a sunny day. There I was, knee-deep in engine parts, when she knocked on the door.…

Ever had that moment when you walk into your own home and the air hits you like a soggy sock? That was me last summer, standing in the doorway, scratching…

I’ll be honest, cleaning windows is about as thrilling as watching paint dry, and I should know—I’ve spent more time elbow-deep in engine grease than wiping glass. But there was…

I once tried to set up a reading nook in my garage, thinking I’d create some literary haven amidst the chaos of carburetors and socket wrenches. Spoiler alert: the smell…

So there I was, standing knee-deep in my basement, surrounded by boxes of who-knows-what and the unmistakable smell of mildew. The one light bulb swinging from the ceiling was doing…

I once sat staring at my computer screen, the digital equivalent of a junkyard sprawled before me. Files named “final_final_version3” and photos of questionable angles from years past cluttered every…

I once stood in front of my shed, scratching my head like a monkey solving a Rubik’s Cube. The place looked less like a storage space and more like a…

I remember the first time I tried to pick out window treatments for my workshop. I thought, “How hard could it be?” Turns out, harder than a rusted bolt on…

I once found myself staring down the porcelain abyss of my own bathroom, its once-white surfaces now a grim timeline of neglect. A mosaic of toothpaste splatters, soap scum hieroglyphs,…