For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to own my own little business. I can’t recall what initially sparked this deep-seeded desire of mine. I think it goes all the way back to watching Mr. Hooper on Sesame Street as he stocked the shelves of his store, swept the sidewalk, and made small talk with customers. Something about that appealed to my soul, even as a young child. As a kid I used to play “mechanic” in our garage, pretending to fix my bike with tools that I didn’t know how to use.

When I was twelve years old my parents opened a computer store, Yukon Software. I was too young to work at the store, but old enough to pretend I did. Sometimes I would walk rearrange the boxes as I walked by, doing a little dusting along the way. I remember playing computer games on the store’s display computers and thinking this is what I wanted to do when I got older — run my own little one man store. I didn’t even care what kind of shop it was, just as long as it was mine.

The closest I ever came was working as a computer specialist in Spokane. There for the FAA I served as the “office IT guy,” and my days consisted of a little bit of everything. I often went from fixing printer jams to troubleshooting networking issues to updating the office’s website. I made my own network cables, managed the server, and even punched down telephone connections each time employees moved cubicles. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. Within a couple of years our office’s small network joined the national wide area network. Servers and support were eventually centralized; hands-on technical support was out and remote administration was in.

Things change.

Somehow my desire to own my own small business became intertwined with my desire to own a workshop — or at least it filled whatever that hole was. The parts that appeal to me overlap. Out in my workshop I arrange and rearrange tools, nail together bits of wood when it strikes my fancy, and sweep up when I’m done. I have a large push broom that I use to push the small piles of sawdust into larger piles, and a second broom that I use to whisk the larger piles into my dustpan-on-a-stick.

The back half of the workshop has been converted into a movie theater, complete with its own lobby. There’s still work to be done. Arcade cabinets need to be finished and moved into the lobby. The snack bar needs to be rebuilt. Shelves need to be hung. Some of the cleaning I do reminds me of my parents’ store. Sometimes I vacuum the carpet and sometimes I dust things.

When everything is finished, it’ll be a garage and a movie theater with no customers. Just me, eating popcorn, watching movies, and cleaning up before turning off the lights, setting the alarm, and saying goodnight.