Puttering
A Putt-About Morning
There’s a particular kind of Saturday in late fall when the house feels like it’s exhaling. The heat kicks on with that warm, dusty scent, the light coming through the back door is soft and slanted, and the yard looks like it’s settling in for the long nap ahead. It’s the sort of morning that practically invites puttering.
I wasn’t planning a project. I was just poking around, straightening a shelf, moving a screwdriver from here to there, wondering how we accumulated so many AA batteries, but never the ones I actually need.
Puttering on a weekend is a gentle, low-stakes ritual of home enjoyment, characterized by wandering, tidying, and pausing, serving as a "soft reset" from the work week. - Anonymous
And somewhere in that quiet shuffle, an idea arrived the way ideas do on days like this: not with trumpets, but with a shrug.
“I should organize the batteries.”
Now, a normal person might slide them into a drawer, or buy one of those plastic cases with tidy little labels. But this is House 173, and instead I found myself rummaging through scrap wood, holding pieces up like puzzle parts, and thinking: yeah, that’ll work.
Scrap Wood, Chicken Wire, and a Bit of Whimsy
The whole thing came together with that pleasant improvisational rhythm—cut a board, sand an edge, trim another, sip some coffee, step back and look at it, nod, keep going.
Each board went to the drill press to carve out the spaces for the finger grips.
I made a few channels to separate the AA’s from the AAA’s, from the C’s, from the D’s, and yes—even those blocky old 9-volts that refuse to disappear from the world.
Before I put the chicken wire over the face, I just used a few wrenches to keep each of the slots square while the glue set.
Once the body was done, I looked through my collection of spray paints, and I have many... way too many. Anyway, I chose Krylon's Catalina Mist.
Then, suspended from the clothesline on a beautiful day... sprayed 'er up!
The chicken wire was a stroke of… well, not genius exactly, but something in that neighborhood.
It keeps the batteries from tumbling out, adds a dash of rustic charm, and makes the whole thing look like it belongs in a workshop owned by someone who probably knows what they’re doing. (Let’s not examine that too closely.)
Its Natural Habitat
Some screws, a dab of leftover paint, and a sturdy mount later—there it was, in its Natural Habitat, hanging proudly by the door, like it had always been meant to live there.
The Internet Probably Has Instructions
Now, I’ve seen this exact organizer somewhere out there, on YouTube or Pinterest or a blog with better lighting than mine, but just in pictures.
There's probably detailed, measured, technically precise plans for a battery organizer out there, and they probably include things like:
- optimal spacing
- ergonomic retrieval angles
- humidity considerations
- laser-cut templates
Mine has none of that.
But it does have character... and batteries that finally stay in one place, and that feels like exactly the right amount of success for a Saturday puttering session.
The Joy of Small Things
There’s a peace that comes from doing something humble and useful with your hands. No deadlines, no urgency, just the simple satisfaction of making a little order in a small corner of life.
And now, whenever I grab a fresh battery, I’ll remember this morning; the quiet house, the soft light, the smell of sawdust, and the gentle pleasure of a project that didn’t need to exist but somehow makes everything nicer. Another little project Made at 173!
Here’s to puttering, to scraps becoming something, and to the small triumph of finding the right battery when you need one.
Hey, thanks for stopping by - see ya' next time!
