You may be thinking, “Who is this lady, and how dare she question and criticize those guys!” So I feel the need to establish that I am not completely ignorant about working with materials and thinking about how things are built.
I spent a lot of time as a little kid “helping” dad when he was working at his workbench. When I was 4 years old I told my parents I wanted my own workbench. Dad secretly built me a little green workbench and bought a bunch of little (real) hand tools, and so I was a very happy five-year-old that following Christmas. And here is the proof:
Look at how cute I am! (As for the couch, all I can say in my parents’ defense is that it was the ’70s.)
Then next Christmas I asked for power tools. I did not receive those. (Those gifts were delayed until I got my first apartment in college.)
And here are pictures of six-year-old me putting joint compound on drywall when my parents were finishing off our basement.
Why did my parents have me do this job? Because I was very good at it.
Why did I do only the lower half of the walls? Because I was very short.
So the point of this, Pella, is that I am not stupid.