Garage

Garage

I am a firm believer that the garage is a man’s domain. I realize that saying this will raise the ire of gender sensitive, politically correct people. The fact is that I don’t care. I was raised in a time when men were the kings of their castle or at least of their garage. I am told that times change and I had better change with them. I draw the line at my garage.

My dream of a garage is the space where I can putter, hide out, tinker with small household repair jobs or just sit and have a beer. It is a designated space that has a cement floor, orderly shelves, and a workbench with my tools each in their proper place. It is where I stow my hunting, fishing, golfing, and floating gear. My bike and cars want to find safe haven there as well.  

In reality my garage is quite different. It is the one space where anything that doesn’t have a home, finds one here. Half of the shelves are covered with tubs of seasonal clothes, toys for the grandkids, and treasures from other people’s garage sales. What doesn’t fit on those shelves takes up a significant amount of floor space. Items that no longer have inside décor appeal are deposited on the other side of the laundry room door leading to the garage. This is where I find full garbage bags carried from the kitchen.

I have two vehicles that have never seen the inside of the garage. Several years ago, after a massive purge of non-appropriate garage items, I tried to drive both vehicles in the garage. When I got the second one in, I found I could not get out. The fit was so tight I couldn’t open the door. I guess if I want both of them in the garage, I will have to live in one.

I refuse to give up on my dream garage. The battle for garage space lives on. Someone once said, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I feel like I am traveling on that road as I fight for my garage!