As someone who deals in words and sometimes pictures, I have a lot of admiration for people who know how to make things. Concrete things, useful things, like houses and subway trains and computers.
There's one sight that always fills me with awe, that of downtown from across the river, especially at night. Gleaming highrises, warm light spilling from banks of windows and reflecting off the water below, make me marvel that somebody actually knew how to build these. They saw their vision through, from sketches on paper to solid towers of glass and steel. I could see myself tackling a table perhaps, albeit badly, but I could never even fathom how to build a highrise.
We currently have a pencil jammed into the toilet tank in the en suite, to stop the toilet from flushing itself every two minutes, which it started doing earlier today. Since the shutoff valve is broken, it's the best we can do until the plumber arrives in three days. And for that, the Spousal Unit is my hero. If left to my own devises, I would have just slept in the spare room for the next few nights. And then written a whiny blog post about it.