My dad recently sold his house
and before he handed the keys over he asked me to clear all of my junk out of the loft.
There was a lot of it; dozens upon dozens of books, a working Megadrive with 20-odd games, old issues of FHM in surprisingly unwanky condition, CDs, cassette tapes, a minidisk player, old school projects and, to get back on topic, a pretty big box of Lego Technic. 1x1x2 feet, full to the brim.
A tiny voice at the back of my mind said "Kerching! There's probably a couple of hundred quids worth there!", but sadly the tiny voice didn't point out that it would be a pretty big operation to get it into a sellable condition.
Thus what I thought would be a couple of hours works ended up stretching over several days, as I sorted it into colour-coded beams and panels. There were bowls of gears and axles all over the living room, a coffee table full of tiny pieces that would go missing if I left them on the floor, a completed test car, a half completed black hawk plane and a general feeling of "I wish I hadn't fucking started this".
About four days into the carnage the wife finally pipes up (yes I'm married, it could happen to you too one day if you stop trolling on internet forums and go out into the big wide world):
"I hope you finish sorting all of this out soon..."
"I know, I'm sorry" I reply, "this is all taking longer than"-
"...because I want to build a digger..."

She's a keeper.
(Paolo Nutini's Bikini Better than Frederick Fleet's optometrist, Sat 26 Oct 2013, 17:01, Reply)