You Can Just Build Things, Literally

A Corollary to “You Can Just Do Things”

By guest author Right Of Normie.

I had just gotten home from work, walked through the front door, and added my shoes to the ever-growing pile. “We really need a shoe rack,” I thought to myself. So I did what any hardworking American would do: I sat on my couch, pulled out my phone, and searched Amazon for “shoe racks.”

Immediately, I was bombarded by such well-known, reputable brands as FILWH, VTRIN, and SONGMICS. Being the shrewd businessman I am, I purchased the first result and awaited my package.

The following day, upon returning home, I was greeted by a welcome sight: an Amazon box. I grabbed it, went inside, added my shoes once again to the slightly larger pile, and set to work. When I opened the box, I was less than thrilled. Cheap plastic clips, thin aluminum tubes, papier-mâché shelving, and instructions written in such poor English I needed a translator to decipher them.

That’s when I paused and looked around. Every piece of furniture I owned was of similar quality. Our entertainment system — ordered on a Prime Day “deal” — was made of MDF particle board, laminated with a woodgrain sticker pretending to be “authentic finish.” Our end tables required precision placement of anything on top to avoid wobble.

I thought back to my grandmother’s house. As a child, I remembered how imposing her furniture felt — the craftsmanship, the weight, the beautiful finish. In contrast, my own furniture was a hodgepodge of imposters. And I thought to myself once more: “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

That was the moment I decided my family would have quality, handmade, generational furniture.

There was just one problem: the only power tool I had ever used was a hand drill — while installing curtain rods — and that usually ended in frustration and a few choice words.

So again, I did what any American would do: I went on YouTube and searched “how to make a shoe rack.”

The results were immediate — and overwhelming. But about five minutes into each video, without pause, the narrator would turn and walk into a fully outfitted workshop. Armed with only a circular saw and a power drill, I started to feel out of my league. I nearly gave up.

But then I was hit with a realization: you can just build things.

So once again, I Googled “rustic shoe racks,” found some inspiration, and set my course. I jumped into my RAV4 (yes, not a truck, but a RAV4) and headed to Lowe’s.

I spent more time than I’d like to admit wandering the aisles of Lowe’s, Googling everything: What is S2S wood? S4S wood? What’s the best wood for furniture? Can you use pine? How do you stain? How do you sand? Best screws for furniture? What does a #10 screw mean?

In the end, I left with my supplies:

• Lumber – about $30 worth

• Hardware (screws, nails, stain opener) – about $25

• Pre-stain + stain – around $30

Total: about $100. But since the screws and stain have lasted through several projects, it’s been a good investment.

Back home, I was eager to get started. I’ll spare you the detailed play-by-play of the build, but I’ll share the result:

It may not look like much, but for me and my family, it’s everything. We now have a solid, aesthetically pleasing, handmade shoe rack that will last a lifetime. In raw material, adjusting for hardware used only in this build, it cost approximately $50–$60 to make. Compare that to any “real wood” furniture online or in your local home goods store, and the cost savings are clear.

After that first project, I was hooked. What started as a leap of faith — a frustrated search for a decent shoe rack — quickly became something much more. I found myself learning new techniques, researching tools, and fielding requests from my wife like I’d suddenly become Tim Allen. Our family now has a growing list of things we want to make together — not just for ourselves, but for our kids, and maybe even for their kids one day. What began as a weekend experiment turned into a lifelong passion.

Our most recent project:

I’ll admit — I already owned a few of the big-ticket tools. But for any of you just starting out, they can easily be found on Facebook Marketplace, thrift stores, or yes — even Amazon itself.

You don’t need a truck. Just a trunk and some tie-downs to bring lumber home.

I don’t write this as a humblebrag, but as encouragement. You can just build things.

You can make real, authentic, handmade pieces for your friends and family. You really can just build things.