Some Alternate Uses for Rolling Toolboxes

I'm sharing these ideas because that's how friends help each other out, right?

Our basement features a hard-working multipurpose room that includes, among other things, two rolling toolboxes similar to the one above. They’re sturdy, have a flat top and locking casters. But hammers and wrenches don’t live inside them. They’re for my crafting supplies. And the toolboxes also serve as the legs of my crafting table:

A curtain hides the toolbox on the left. (The curtain also hides stuff underneath the craft table, like a guillotine-style paper cutter and a giant bin of wrapping paper.) The worktop of my craft table is a hollow-core door, with a piece of glass on top. The glass makes it easy to wipe up messy spills—and a razor blade can scrape up dried glue or paint.

The point is that toolboxes don’t have to be toolboxes. An apartment in Greenville, S.C., needed a kitchen island to provide more serving space. But the renters were on a tight budget, so they bought a rolling toolbox like the one pictured above on sale for $279 from Harbor Freight Tools.

The toolbox fits with the industrial vibe of the apartment, located in a former textile mill. The casters lock, but the “island” can be moved if space gets tight. The handle serves as a towel rack. (The maple top came with the toolbox, but the owner’s manual says it shouldn’t be used for food preparation.)

Those two examples show how toolboxes can shed their working-class roots and go on to greater things. But don’t get me wrong. Humble hardware deserves a stable home. There’s nothing worse than needing a tape measure, and it’s not in a designated place. As my mother would say, “It literally makes my blood boil.” (She famously misused the word “literally.”)

Back in our basement multipurpose space, we have this rolling toolbox / workbench that I believe was purchased at Sam’s Club.

The most commonly used hand tools hang on the right side of the peg board, and lesser-used tools and power tools are stored in drawers and on shelves. Note that we also have a fire extinguisher, which every home should have on every level.

The left side has my sewing stuff because I keep my sewing machine nearby. There’s also another Kansas license plate that should be hung on the wall behind the craft table, but it would be out of chronological order, which literally makes my blood boil.

OK, dear reader, are you still with me? I certainly hope so. By now, my husband Chuck has stopped reading and peeled off to make his tee time or get ready for tennis practice. At any rate, he won’t be following the rest of this post, so I’m enlisting your help.

Let me apologize ahead of time and say that this Substack post has absolutely nothing to do with the wonderful ways you can use rolling toolboxes. It’s to ask you a favor, just as a friend. Remember, I would do the same for you.

Chuck and I have been married for 30 years. At some point, he is going to reach his tipping point with me. One too many times, I’ll snap, “Do you have to swallow your food so loudly!?!?!?” Or I’ll back the car out without first pressing the button that opens the garage door (again). Or —gasp!—I’ll mistakenly bring home mint chocolate chip instead of chocolate chip cookie dough.

As a result, Chuck will place me in a facility where I’ll be forced to spend my days watching “Diff’rent Strokes” reruns while eating creamed peas. It’s inevitable. So I’d like to return to the multipurpose room in the basement and call your attention to one key tool that hangs on the pegboard.

Those are bolt cutters. You can DM me and I’ll tell you where we hide a spare key to the house. When the day comes that I am trapped in the facility, I’d like you to sneak in the basement and swipe the bolt cutters. The hard part will be smuggling it into the facility—I’m thinking a violin case would work. Then, late one weekend when the overnight shift is spread thin, I’ll use the bolt cutters to detach my ankle-bracelet monitor, snap the lock on the cash box and steal the bingo prize money, break into the snack cabinet and, finally, smash the glass exit door to make my dash for freedom.

Of course, I’ll need someone to drive the getaway car. Remember, I’d do the same for you.