Like Yppej, I would have loved being good at home repairs. I was hugely jealous when a co-worker remarked that his wife was home building a deck. I can't imagine. It's not that home repairs would have been impossible to learn. I'd love to have the perseverance to excel at any discipline; I have serial interests that I reliably abandon for the Next Shiny Thing.
I took an auto repair class once and all I got out of it was a boyfriend or two. I did change my oil, but that turned out to be a disaster with a leaking collection pan and the neighbor's friendly sheepdog who thought lying down next to me in a puddle of oil looked like fun. So much for my career as a grease monkey.
I took a tennis class and a hiking class. I was doing swimmingly well at tennis when I blew my left knee out (again) and had to quit. I was the dead weight of the hiking class. I'm lucky I did't end up like one of David Paulides' mysterious disappearances. Luckily, the 60-year old instructor saw to it I didn't straggle. I had to drive the fifty or so miles home lifting my legs between pedals by hand. My knees have never worked right.
I was always effortlessly good at languages, but that wasn't a burden. More than one person suggested I'd be good at stand-up comedy, but the idea of having all eyes on me is chill-inducing. Maybe comedy writing would have been a good fit, but I think print translation (and a life in Europe) would have been just the ticket.
This exercise has shone a light on how unaccomplished I truly am. Hoping for reincarnation.