Last summer I built a bookshelf from scratch for my bedroom. I'm a twenty-year-old engineering student in Kathmandu, and before that I'd never built anything bigger than a model plane.
The idea came when I moved into a rented room near my college. My books were in piles on the floor, and a ready-made shelf was more than I could afford. My landlord had some old wooden planks behind the building, left over from repairs, and he said I could have them for free.
First, I measured the space in my room and drew a simple design, with four shelves, about as tall as me. I borrowed a saw, a drill and a measuring tape from a friend whose father is a carpenter. I cut the planks to size, sanded them for hours to make them smooth, and then screwed everything together with metal brackets. The first time I stood it up, it leaned to one side, because I'd cut one leg slightly too short. I had to take it apart and fix that, which was frustrating. Finally I painted it dark green. Altogether it took me three weekends.
When it was finished, I felt incredibly proud, much prouder than I expected. It's not perfect. If you look closely, there are rough edges and one shelf is a bit uneven. But I'd made something useful with my own hands from wood that would have been thrown away. It also made me appreciate my studies more, because I'd actually used things I'd learned about loads and measurements. My friends now joke that I should start a furniture business.