I met an electrician’s apprentice several years ago. He was working for a licensed electrician on a house and was, of course, doing the majority of the work. He was not, however, getting paid very much. So, he quit to return to working at the more lucrative position he’d formerly held at Taco Bell.

I don’t blame him.

Once, when Pete was asked if he’d ever think about being in charge of constructing a building, he openly laughed and said, “Absolutely not.”

When asked why not, he said, “I just want to come here and work for a few hours and then go home. I don’t want people bugging me. I don’t want to need to worry about anyone other than myself.”

I didn’t blame him, either.

Responsibility is not truly respected until there is the need to assign blame. And then it’s not the kind of respect anyone actually wants.

The great thing about woodworking is there is no inherent responsibility for anything to anyone. As a hobby, you can go to you workspace (garage, shed, basement, living room floor) and chip away as much or as little as you want. Who cares if it takes three years to make a toilet shelf?

However, once you start making things for someone else, it can suddenly become much worse than having a normal job. Not only will the customer be in charge of what he or she wants, thereby completely directing your activity, they will also probably want whatever they asked for sometime before they die of old age.

I think I’ll maintain myself as my only customer.

Because of how the chain of duty runs in the workplace, there is always someone else who can be ultimately responsible for whatever is happening. But when you’re making a china cabinet for your sister-in-law’s best friend Gerta, it’s completely your fault if it’s not sanded enough or the wrong shade of mud or the door falls off whenever it’s opened or if it never gets made at all.

Avoid those situations. You will quickly turn your workshop into a kind of updated version of the Tartarus of Ancient Greece. Sisyphus will be right there next to you, running the treadmill to power the lathe. Damocles will be manning the planer.

Some things are better left as hobbies.

That’s how I’m viewing all the renovation projects I’ve started and not yet completed on my house. The kitchen floor is a pastime, the cabinets are like entertainment, the bedrooms with their unfinished walls are like a game of billiards. I can come and go as I please. Yes, these places are occupied by others, but I can feel free to tell them that, if they want things done so badly, they can do them themselves.

They generally don’t like that, though.

I don’t have time for any of that, anyway. Frankly, I haven’t had time to mow the lawn since June. But I have found, with the passage of time, that not only does the grass grow on its own, it also falls down. And the end result is not far off the desired one.

That’s the perspective I may be adopting for all such things in the future.

Really. If I fix everything now, what will I do then?