YouTube saved my retirement!

I wanted to take a minute and do a bit of FAN boy blogging about YouTubers. Yes, I said it. I’m a grown man with a mortgage, lower back pain, and a deep appreciation for people who scream into microphones while playing Minecraft. Let’s dive in.

So, I’m a bit ADHD and a modern man—which basically means I like to “help” my wife as much as I possibly can. And by “help,” I mean I specialize in lying on the bed while she tries to make it, offering moral support and occasional commentary like, “You missed a corner.” She loves that. Really. She told me with her eyes.

When it comes to folding laundry, I bring a certain... flair. My shirts resemble swans, my socks look like abstract art, and the towels? Let’s just say they’re folded in ways that defy both gravity and logic. I call it “domestic origami.” My wife calls it “Why are you like this?”

I also enjoy helping in the kitchen. I’m basically her sous chef, minus the skills, knowledge, and ability to follow instructions. I like to think I make baking easier for her. She likes to think I make baking a contact sport. After a few minutes of my “help,” she calmly suggested I go pick on the cat or the boy in the living room. Calmly. With the intensity of a thousand suns.

So I wandered off, not realizing my youngest had come over.

I walked into the living room and saw the TV on. Odd. I’ve already seen everything on all 300 channels. Twice. But my son wasn’t watching cable—he was watching YouTube. Specifically, videos of other people playing video games. I paused. I play Call of Duty. I understand the thrill of digital combat. But watching someone else play? That’s like watching someone else eat your fries. Intriguing, but also mildly infuriating.

My son finished his meal, left his plate and cup on the side table like a decorative offering, dropped his napkin on the floor like a mic, turned on every light in the house like he was hosting a runway show, raided my pantry like a raccoon in cargo shorts, and then casually drove back to his house like he hadn’t just committed a snack heist.

Left alone, bored, and feeling my age, I turned on This Old House. Because nothing says “I’m officially old” like watching someone install drywall with passion. But then it hit me—YouTube probably has This Old House-type content. And not just that, but thousands of videos of people fixing things, building things, and explaining why your sink sounds like it’s haunted.

So now, I’m deep in the rabbit hole. And not just Alice-in-Wonderland deep—I’m talking full-blown, tea-party-with-the-Mad-Hatter, forgot-what-day-it-is kind of deep. What I thought was a casual 30-minute YouTube break turned into a five-hour binge that ended with me questioning whether I should quit my job and become a full-time lumberjack with a camera.

It all started innocently enough. I stumbled upon John Malecki, who was building river tables—those mesmerizing epoxy-and-wood creations that look like nature and science had a baby and named it “Instagram-worthy.” Now, I know epoxy is considered by some purists to be a “travesty of good wood,” like putting ketchup on a steak or pineapple on pizza. But I couldn’t look away. Malecki was funny, informative, and had the kind of energy that made me believe I, too, could pour goo into a slab of walnut and call it art.

Then came Bourbon Moth. Oh boy. If Malecki was the gateway drug, Bourbon Moth was the full-blown woodworking narcotic.

This guy wasn’t just making furniture—he was crafting heirlooms with the swagger of a rockstar and the precision of a Swiss watchmaker. His videos kicked my woodworking bug into high gear. Suddenly, I was watching him build cabinets, tables, and secret compartments like he was auditioning for a spy movie. And I was hooked.

I spent the next six weeks watching every single video he’s ever made. I was like a junkie, refreshing his channel like it was my personal Netflix. I started dreaming about dovetail joints. I began referring to my garage as “the shop,” even though it mostly housed old paint cans and a broken leaf blower. I had visions of building masterpieces—dining tables, credenzas, maybe even a throne. They made it all look so easy. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

After I burned through Bourbon Moth’s catalog and a few other creators, I discovered ENCURTIS. And let me tell you—this guy is the woodworking Yoda. If Malecki is the class clown and Bourbon Moth is the cool professor, EnCurtis is the sage who teaches you how to turn a pile of lumber into a soul-stirring piece of furniture.

His videos are so informative, I feel like I should be earning college credit. And the entertainment value? Through the roof. Like, I laughed, I cried, I learned how to properly use a router.

I’ve watched every EnCurtis video multiple times. At this point, I quote him like he’s Shakespeare. “To sand, or not to sand—that is the question.” He made me realize I’m not just a guy with a drill and delusions of grandeur. I’m an artist. A craftsman. A visionary. My furniture isn’t just functional—it’s gallery-worthy. Okay, maybe not actual gallery-worthy, but definitely “mom’s Facebook post” worthy.

So here I am, knee-deep in sawdust and self-confidence, ready to build the next great piece of furniture. Or at least a birdhouse that doesn’t collapse in the rain. Either way, YouTube has turned me from a casual viewer into a full-blown woodworking disciple. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.