Once a week, I live in an old house. To commemorate my birthday, I started making a brick stove. Last week, I made the foundation. And today, for the first time, I stacked the bricks that I received from a friend's house.
Stacking bricks was a modest series of failures, but it feels like playing in the mud, so it's very enjoyable. The progress of the work is hindered by rain and snow, but if I think that it prolongs the enjoyment, then it's fine.
My father's old cardigan was full of holes, but I couldn't throw it away, so I tried mending it with scraps and embroidery thread. I saw the phrase "worker's cardigan" in a comment before, and this is exactly that - a "worker's cardigan". It may be a clumsy way of mending, but it has become a beloved cardigan.