The Solipsist, in contrast, is Jewish. His home improvement skills don't extend much beyond the proper use of the Yellow Pages.
Today's project involved the building of a cinderblock thingamawhatsis to go at the base of a hill. FILOS handled the precision work--measuring, leveling, making sure all the cinderblock doobobs and other stone tile-shaped things ("Those would be tiles, Solipsist." "Ah! Thanks, FILOS") lined up properly; the Solipsist carried large bags of sand up a driveway. FILOS used this really cool stonecutting saw to split a tile in half; the Solipsist carted buckets of dirt to a dirtpile. FILOS wedged two-by-fours in between the stone tiles to ensure proper spacing and neat placement; the Solipsist shlepped pieces of wood and other detritus from one side of the house to the other.
There is something undeniably satisfying about physical labor. For one thing, when it's done, you can actually see that something has been done. True, when we finish our daily posts, we also see that something has been done--that something exists that did not exist an hour before. But a piece of ephemera that people may or may not read doesn't produce the same gut-level satisfaction as a little stone wall standing in someone's backyard where before there was only dirt.
And, yes, we even take a minimal amount of pride in the large mound of dirt we ourselves helped create.
