It may come as a surprise to some people that I am quite the handyman.

That last statement was a complete lie, and Carlee will attest to it.

I mean really, it took me nine or so months to install my sprinkler system. Even after it was finally finished the filter that connects us to the city water explodes in a sonic boom and a thirty foot geyser every now and again. I try, but more often than not, I fail when it comes to handyman work.

Honestly I think it is my dads fault. Seriously. I realized at a young age that my father could build and fix anything, and he often would. Some of his most notable accomplishments in my mind are a shed that could survive a category 5 tornado, a sandbox that I spent most of my summers in, and an addition to our house fondly called the blue room. Twenty feet by twenty feet and what seemed to me a fifty foot ceiling, this room was nothing short of astounding.

With such great skill exercised in my daily life by my dad, I guess I feel that I can’t ever measure up. The questionable sprinkler system, countless missing bathroom fixtures I promised Carlee I would replace, and even a botched attempt at trying to fix a tear in our leather ottoman that appeared mysteriously after I had placed a bowl of hot soup on it. A whole lot of fail going on here.

The next chapter in my attempt to procure myself a competent husband and handyman?

The basement.

With another child soon on the way, we decided that an extra room was needed. My plan was to have the three bedrooms upstairs for the family, and finish the basement room so I could have an office/man cave. Carlee, on the other hand, later informed me that it would have to be office/man cave/playroom. Win some and lose some right?

I thought building this conglomeration of space would be a simple task: throw up a few pieces of wood, maybe a few sheets of drywall, paint, and done. Nope, not even close. Luckily, my dad has decided to help me each step of the way, thus ensuring a successful outcome regardless of how much I try to help out.

I did actually frame a few of the walls myself and no matter what you say, I will always blame their appearance on the condition of my wavy basement floor.

It’s a funny thing, I had actually sworn to Carlee this project would be done by Christmas, and that was over a month ago now.

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How it came to be is a mystery for sure, but I think it had something to do with a computer and an early obsession with dialing into local bulletin board systems. In fact, now that I think about it, one of the things that had a huge impact on me was a BBS game by the name of Trade Wars.

This turn-based strategy game involved a text adventure about space traders and pirates accompanied by blocky images and an epic imagination. I would waste hours vying for domination of the virtual galaxy against other equally nerdy dudes.

From there it gets a little hazy with the advent of the internet and my first encounter with a software program called Hotdog. I took a slightly evil detour with Adobe Dreamweaver, but found sanity once again after discovering Coda.

So, here I am. A user interface designer/developer at a Java software house in Salt Lake City. Who would have thought such an innocent obsession with a 386 SX/25 and tying up the family phone line for hours would lead to my livelihood?

I guess I kind of knew.

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