Remember when we used to say if it was handmade well, it would just sell itself? I totally believed that. Then I watched a buddy's amazing wooden cutting boards sit unsold all spring because he launched right before grilling season. It hit me that the best product in the world needs the right moment. Now I get why your candle story stings so much, it's that same tough lesson. Good stuff has to meet people when they actually want it.

Heard about a gardening book that said chaos planting works better sometimes? Your sneeze might have just invented a new method. Maybe the mess will grow something cool.

Did I tell you about my friend Sam? She used to get so mad at sewing, but one night she tried stitching a basic tote bag just to kill time. She got really into matching the thread color and making even seams, and it actually calmed her down. Now she mends stuff when she's stressed, says it clears her head.

Used to scoff at small group limits, but a ruined coral patch changed that... now I'm militant about it.

Notice how restoration videos aren't just about fixing objects, they're a backlash against our throwaway culture. Watching someone breathe life into a rusty vintage typewriter feels like a small rebellion against planned obsolescence. We're inundated with cheap, disposable goods, so seeing something cared for and restored hits different. It's no accident that this content evolved from DIY fails, which highlight incompetence, to these meticulous redemptions. They feed a hunger for permanence in a world that feels increasingly temporary.