I pack up my workbench (table) between sessions because the rugrats in my house would tear it apart. It’s like an Iranian uranium enrichment facility: it’s hard to identify when it isn’t in operation. It sits like this today:
Inside of my high-security model closet we have a painted ’40 Ford waiting for attention:
And a ’32 waiting for more cleanup, primer, and Tamiya maroon:
And recent builds looking on:
I hope to be building a bit tonight.