I married a serial hobby starter. Maybe the more accurate term would be hobby abandoner. Our home is filled with the ghosts of hobbies past, remnants of projects collecting dust in the basement, attic, and shed.
First there was the cigar box guitar. Then there was wood carving. Gardening left me with a 5’x’5 trench in the middle of my backyard, that now serves as a dust bath for my chickens. I’m still finding plastic bottles from the failed batch of home brew, and I will never be able to rid my house of the flour left behind by the baking phase.