Pretty much the entire northeast of America east of the Appalachians was underwater at one time, so is limestone rich. Further north from me, where the greater weights of the glaciers in the last ice age gave everything a high-pressure squeeze, there is quite a bit of marble to be quarried, Vermont being most famous.

As far as the satisfaction of fixing old things, a lot of it goes to my love of quality. Too often today, value is judged solely on price. I'm old-school on that, so value is to me a ratio of price and quality, the latter the suitability for purpose and the longevity of something whilst fulfilling that purpose.

I'm also notoriously tight, so when faced with the choice of buying something at $50 that will last 30 years versus a cheap $30 one that'll last five, the value is mathematically clear, something I had to teach my very typically American wife who was raised on price-comparison shopping.

I'm on a tear about reducing the amount of stuff in this house, and very much prefer fewer things but nice things. Best of all are those nice often older things that come to me needing a bit of work, all the cheaper because most people in modern America won't fix something. They are indoctrinated to throw it out and go buy the latest new version, preferably one that their phone and Alexa can converse with.

Our stove I mentioned was made in the last year of WWII. I can tear the entire thing down, replace burners and drip-pans, give everything a good scrub, rewire the controls if I need, and it does the job most ably. It also looks very cool; it has style. It is a very nice thing, an Art Deco monster in a world of cheap-arse stainless steel style-less prison-kitchen appliances. And it keeps doing its thing with a little time lavished on it and will continue to do so.



Another thing I just rebuilt is this classic library table/desk lamp. Tear it down, rewire, replace or fix the various worn-out broken bits in the joints, polish it up as I reassemble, and I end up with a nice thing, not a Walmart-grade POS to throw out in a couple years' time.



Now it sits on an old wooden draughting table that was my great-grandfather's, a nice leather and solid-wood library chair bought cheap from the local university at a surplus-property sale. Once the leather desk-pad I ordered up arrives, this will just be a nice place to be; whether using my laptop or an equally nice writing instrument. It'll even smell of quality what with the leather and woods in that room.



I might be hopelessly socially out-of-step, but I find today's throw-away society an anathema of wastage and the inability of today's men to accomplish the most basic of bloke-ish skills pitiful. Working with nice things means you can enjoy nice things without being a rich man. I like the notion that something of quality enriches ones life, especially as the result of the turning of ones own hand, not just opening the purse.

Very satisfying is right, mate!