This is flattering, but not a good idea for several reasons:
- My house is only half-finished, so I shouldn't be taking time out from it to do side projects;
- I do home-improvement like I do law. No, that doesn't mean "incompetently". It means that I am a perfectionist and take my time to make sure everything is meticulously perfect. If I charged for home improvement by the hour it would be so expensive that it would be unjustifiable. If I charged what a contractor would charge, it would take me so long to do it, that when you figured out the hourly rate, it would be less than minimun wage;
- My boss has the ability to promote (or fire) me. When I unintentionally cause a flood at the ninja fortress, I can laugh about it afterwards, but I don't know if she will see the humor in such episodes;
- She lives in Bethesda, and the only place I am allowed to work on in Bethesda belongs to the Toolbelt Diva. Which reminds me, I need to take some pics of the "repairs" her ex did (with scotchtape!) before I fix them so that you readers can all tell her how much better skillz I have than her ex (you know, drywall skillz, nunchuck skillz, bow-hunting skillz).
Moreover, I enjoy home-improvement stuff because I do what I like when and how I like it. If I took money for it, I don't know if I would like it anymore. In fact, while I don't mind doing stuff for free for friends, the thought of taking money for it seems kind of odd. Especially, if you think about it in other contexts:
Boy: Hey, would you like to go on a date with me?
Girl: No thanks, I already have a boyfriend.
Boy: What if I pay you?
Girl: huh? What kinda girl do you think I am?
Boy: You know what kinda girl I think you are. I just wanna' know how much!
See...it's kinda weird, isn't it. Plus, if I took money for it, I think it would make me like a real contractor, which is not something I see myself as (I wasted too much money on all those degrees). Although my dad and grandpa (and a lot of my uncles) were contractors, and I have a lot of respect for it, my family didn't have the best of luck in that profession. My grandfather died on a construction site (in front of my dad), and my dad broke his back on a contsruction job (in front of me), and I almost died on a construction site. This would've been particularly tragic since I have no kids yet. I think it's pointless to die unless your passing can inflict irreparable trauma on one of your heirs. Sort of like a gift that keeps on giving. A kid can lose an inherited watch, but it will takes years of therapy to keep your gruesome death from haunting their memory. And if things are ever slow in the spirit realm you can always go visit and move furniture and make strange noises. You, know...because it's tradition. Ahhhhh, family...good times.
So basically, construction is really dangerous stuff. Statisically it's way more dangerous than being a doughnut-eating cop, which is only slightly more dangerous than being a baker...no, really, you can google it if you don't believe me. Plus doing construction is hard. And I'm used to sitting in an office all day. And not risking life-ending injuries.
Being a lawyer is not very dangerous. I guess divorce lawyers occassionally get shot by people they sue and criminal lawyers occassionally get killed by people they release from prison (in some sort of karmic justice), but being a derivatives lawyer is a pretty sweet gig. Besides the money, which is the best part, no one ever comes in with an AK-47 and guns down an office full of lawyers because they don't like the new revisions to the ISDA Master Agreement.
I think I enjoy my job. Although not as much as my friend, Viet-Mom, who told me yesterday that the only way she would ever leave her firm is if they carried her out...either in a pine box or a straight jacket. What devotion!
If I did ever decide not to be a lawyer, I don't think I would trade it for construction. I think maybe I would be a writer, a standup comedian, or maybe I would open up a restaurant. But not a big fancy one. I want the small intimate kind where I can throw people out if they don't like the way I cook the steak.
Waiter: Well, I took your steak back to the chef and told him you said it was undercooked. He wasn't too happy about it.
Customer: I don't care. I'm the customer, and I'm always right...right.
Waiter: Look...when I said he wasn't happy about it, I meant he went to his car to get his samurai sword to disembowel you with it. I think you better run away...now.