ISSUE 03: HANDS ON • SEPTEMBER, 2026

How over-researching projects quickly turns into underwhelming experiences.

Howdy folks -

I’d like to start off today’s issue by admitting something to you… I’ve really never been great at doing nothing. Funny, huh? Considering you’re reading a newsletter called More Nothing.

Even when I don’t have a tangible “thing” to deliver or do, I’m doing stuff. What exactly am I doing? A little of this, a bit of that, of course. While vague, what I have realized is that most of what I do can be categorized as research. I am, at my core, constantly researching things. From online forums, to trade publications, think pieces, consumer insight reports, films, eavesdropping on neighboring tables over a glass of wine – I mean, ummm, never mind – or any of the other infinite streams of content available on any given subject, I love to know about things.

Today was no different. The subject of affection? Woodworking!

Why? Well, I was inspired, you see, to build a big-ass Jenga set for our backyard. My wife had recommended the project in the morning and it became a sawdust-covered tennis ball for me to chase down.

So where to begin? I hit up r/carpentry, r/beginnerwoodworking, and even r/Daddit for some inspiration. I watched a few YouTube tutorials, asked a few questions to some AI agents and then began laying out the plan.

Comparing wood types, looking into the right finish, confirming which techniques made most sense… I was trying to find the perfect way to build the perfect set. Eventually, I realized I’d spent more time thinking about building than actually building.

So I ditched the phone, shut the laptop, drove to the hardware store, and started to talk to some of the people working there. No, this is not a novel idea, but it’s important to call out because it led me somewhere interesting.

After about 15 minutes I found myself enjoying a cup of coffee (free for patrons of the local hardware store, which was a nice little surprise) and talking with a wonderful employee named Rich.

Rich was from the East Coast, he was a carpenter. In the 90s, Rich built an addition on his family cabin. Rich was an empty nester and used to tend bar at a (what sounds to be one hell of a real deal) biker bar. I know this because Rich shared some stories where things “got pretty f**kin rowdy” and peppered in a few other qualifying stories to which I’m not at liberty to share here, but had me laughing so hard I nearly spit that free coffee across the aisle. Rich decided to slow things down and move to the Midwest so he could be closer to his kids, and farther from some of the less-wholesome pieces of his life.

His eyes were Bora Bora blue, radiant and shining through a small sliver of open eyelid. Slapped at the end of his wrists were what looked like two baseball mitts – a few wiry hairs sprouting from his knuckles… and surprisingly tidy fingernails. There he stood, next to me, at the coffee station sharing his life story with me all because I asked about paste wax.

While we didn’t agree on everything (for example, he thought it was insane to buy cedar instead of pressure-treated pine; mostly for the cost) but understood I wanted this to last longer and be a bit more high-quality. Oh, and the fact I just really love the smell of cedar. He also respected the vision for the Jenga set and how much effort I was putting in to make it feel like an heirloom piece for my family.

So I finished my cup of Joe, shook Rich’s monster hand, and set off into the DIY abyss. Of course, I bought some wrong materials and had to make another trip back later that day… and the next, but when I came in and Rich waved asking about the progress, it made me smile. It made me happy.

Back at home I was feeling a change… a shift in how I operated and thought. I wasn’t trying to optimize every decision anymore. I was just there making something with my hands. It was meditative.

At one point my wife came out to take a look and saw just how excited and proud I was of this pile of wood in front of me. She knew how much time I was putting into it and that my goal was to build something for us all to enjoy together.

The point in all this? Hell if I know.

I honestly think doing nothing isn’t about doing nothing, at all, rather, it’s about making the space so when something worthwhile happens, you actually notice it.

Will this Jenga set turn out as imagined? Were all the choices I made the right ones? Were they the most optimal ones? Will r/carpentry approve? Was paste wax the right move? I don’t know… nor do I honestly give a shit.

All I’m sure of is that one day after school pickup, I’ll light the grill, we’ll stack the blocks, someone will remove the linchpin, and the whole thing will tumble.

We’ll laugh, gather the pieces, and do it all again.

Maybe sometimes the best things we build aren’t measured by how long they stand.

Maybe they’re measured by who’s standing beside us when they fall, and – inevitably – when it’s time to build them back up again.