I'm tired. I'm sore. And frankly, I'm a bit ornery.
And yet. . . I am absolutely overjoyed. In an ornery, tired kind of way.
(is that even possible?)
Wanna know what I've been up to for days straight, nonstop? Well, do ya? DO YA?
I fought the garage. And I won. I won't show you a before pic. I shan't. I can't. I won't!! Make me! I know you are but what am I? I don't make monkeys I just train 'em!
Sorry. I got that out of my system.
My gay-rage-- it was (keyword: was) that bad. If you're my neighbor, and you've driven past and seen it in all its glory for yourself. . . well then. . .
Just shut up about it!
I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course.
Allow me to give you the smallest snapshot.
Uh huh. This was after I had already started literally shoveling crap into my garbage.
I might just have one of the largest garages on the planet, and yet I had literally covered every square inch with sawdust/scraps.
I am still in shock and awe about all the crud I found in there. Wood, tools, car items, shrunken heads, and I think I counted like 287 screws on the floor.
I didn't really count, but there was like, a lot. Screws are expensive. Of course I picked them up and put them where they go.
Filled up my outside garbage 3 times. 3.
Good thing it was just garbage day + I double dipped and ran it over to the other side of the street all filled up.
Don't you judge me! This was a crisis situation!
I mean, behold my workbench!
It wasn't workable right now, hello.
So how did this all start? We-he-hell, let me tell you.
Daddy-o popped on over and took a mattress off my hands to take up to the house at the lake. Yes, a mattress set. In my garage. 'Cause nothing says "We're trashy!" more than a mattress in your garage.
and then. . . it just snowballed. I girded up my loins. I was all,
"Hmm. . . .I'm going to kind of clean up in this area and make more room for Jeffro to park. "
See, he calls parking any of our cars "threading the needle". It was that bad. When you've ran over a tricycle and a scooter, you might have probs.
Have I painted a mental picture here? It was like "Hoarders" crazy-insane edition in there.
And then, when I cleaned one area, I just kept going.
And going. And sweeping, and sweeping, and organizing. . .
And then, I was like, let's surprise the hubs before he gets home from his business trip, and maybe, just maybe. . .
I'll even get rid of THIS!
I can tell you what each and very mark on there is from. Really.
You know what I wanted? I wanted the hubs to drive home from the airport, and think he was in someone else's garage. I wanted him to flip out with excitement. I wanted this kind of reaction.
Except, you know, about the garage.
And so, on I worked.
I was like, living out there.
My miter saw, "Severus", has it's own space, free from clutter. It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.
And this is especially important, since I just thought of 5 more pants-wetting, exciting project ideas while I swept all weekend.
This became this.
And this became this.
And my husband loves me all the more.
And now? We can finally pimp out the garage. Everything shall have its place. Make it the ultimate workshop dream. Like the deathstar, it will be fully operational.