I spent three days last week disassembling two workbenches in the basement room that was my father's shop. The frames, made of rough 2 x 6 and 2 x 10 boards left over from building the house 60 years ago, were held together by hundreds of nails some nearly the size of railroad spikes. Demolition required a hammer and crow bar applied with muscle and ingenuity.
There is something satisfying about banging and prying something apart. When the 21 nails holding the top wouldn't yield, I just hit the legs harder splintering them into pieces. I felt like I was engaged in some kind of primal demolition ritual.
The satisfaction derived from the exercise made me realize - the weight of those hefty benches can't just be measured on a scale. The weight leaned on my soul and now with the help of a hammer and crow bar it is gone.