Many moons ago,
I got a string of emails from the Daddy-o. No subject; no words. Just attached pictures. Pictures, like,
we have Napoleon's brother, Kip.
Yes. Lumber storage racks.
DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM, DADDY-O? Huh? HUH?
(totally wagging my head all up in your face)
Are you saying there's a problem in my garage?
Just because the whole family trips on lumber every time we go to get in the car. You act like that's a bad thing. Yeesh.
And you know what? Maybe I enjoy watching the hubs cuss and kick crap out of the way.
So, um, I may have a problem. It's called "Hoarders: Lumber Edition."
Told the hubs I had big plans to build a lumber rack.
(Just as soon as I had nothing more fun to do. . . )
And so, the hubs took matters into his own hands.
Aw. He's a good man, that boy-toy of mine.
And it was right prior to this point in the construction,
that I had zero idea where he was going with this lumber storage rack. But I knew he was a man with a plan.
Can you see it?
A bin to hold all my crown, casing, chair rail, baseboard, and 1 by whatever scraps?? With longer slots for full pieces? Like my 2x4's and so forth?
I would like you to know that as we moved this thing around the gay-rage, I was convinced a 2x4 was going to come down and slam me in the noggin'.
"It hurts. . . not so much here, or here. . . but right here."
Shoulda done this a looooooong time ago.
The back holds longer sheets of stuff. Like my beloved plywood.
Or my Halloween picture thingies. (And that jagged piece might be the one I hit with my car, cough.)
we've already completely filled it. And we still have scraps around.