Watched my friend spend a whole weekend setting up his grandpa's old guitar. The tuning was flawless, but man, that patience is a lost art.

If it's trashed, strip it for parts.

Man, isn't it wild how satisfying that process is? I spent a weekend rehabbing an old cast iron skillet I found at a flea market, and that slow process of scrubbing, seasoning, and watching it transform just hits different than buying something new. It's like you're not just fixing a thing, you're building a relationship with it. That scale story totally gets at why these acts feel so substantial against a backdrop of everything being temporary.