The people we share the back fence with. They BBQ a lot. And by a lot I mean a good four nights out of the week the dude will be out there BBQing. But if I am out in the shop he pops his head over the fence and asks if I want some steak and a beer. I go over for a beer a lot but steaks aren’t happening.
But a few weeks ago my sisters oldest kid came up from Arizona to help replace the roof on the garage so I could move my woodworking stuff in there. Like a groundhog he popped his head over the fence and asked what we were doing. Then he came over and helped redo the roof. Probably spent a good 20 hours helping and he even brought us beers.
He is from Peru which is cool since a really good friend of mine is also from there so it is fun to chat with him about that. We have wildly different beliefs about Guinea pigs.
But he is a licensed electrician and he said he would wire a 220 outlet in the garage once I figure out exactly where I want my table-saw. I technically know how to do it. But I am smart enough to not fuck with wiring. Especially 220 with a saw with a big steel table. Not rolling those dice.