This weekend I developed a love-hate relationship with a belt-sander. It started with a project I’ve been dreading–-sanding the paint off the front porch of my house so that I could stain it. The former owners had painted it to match the house, and while it looked nice, it has been a pain to maintain. It needs constant repainting and each time, the surface needs to be sanded and re-primed for the next coat of paint. It’s a major chore and since maintaining the natural wood with a stain sealant doesn’t entail the intense sanding (which is currently residing at #1 on my un-favorite job list), I decided that this time I would sand all the paint off and stain it.

After an entire weekend of sanding, I’m still not finished and muscles I didn’t even know I had are hurting. Similar to my recent expedition to the BMV, hours upon hours inflicting pain upon myself with a belt-sander gave me a lot of time to think about this week’s column...

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