My Shed

All I wanted was a wrecking bar.

I needed it to rip out an old door after the sun had boiled away its varnish and bubbled up the veneer.

So I went out to my shed to get the bar.  It is where I keep the things that I need but rarely use – but it is also a place where the things that I need – go to hide.

The shed is immense, big enough to hold an airplane – and may hold several but I wouldn’t know that for all the junk.

And the junk can be classified into several categories:

A: Stuff that never made it to the landfill

When a remodeling project calls for eight and a half sheets of sheetrock, where does the remaining half sheet go?

It goes the same place as the extra plywood, the old microwave and the wheel barrel with the missing wheel.

Guess where that is?

B: Projects

All projects in my shed are of two types: good intentions missing the intention needed to complete them and projects gone terribly wrong.

Both occupy space.

Where there once was an intention, there still is hope  – but when a project goes wrong (like when you took something apart but don’t know how to put it back together) there is no hope, only embarrassment and therefore the object must remain hidden away forever.

C: Oh that is so cute wouldn’t it look nice in the yard?

Let’s be honest here. Blame my wife.

She falls instantly and hopelessly in love with the oddest objects.  She will spot an old bathtub or a rusty Radio Flyer Wagon and immediately buy it.  She then plants it in the garden or props it up against the house for the summer – and when autumn arrives, it become shed-ware.

D: Stan Stuff

Not everyone has a friend like Stan.

On second thought, other than me, no one has a friend like Stan because I am the only person willing to put up with his bad habits, the worst of which is dropping off things in my shed when I am not around.

So there I was clambering over the refuse in my shed looking for a wrecking bar – when the junk shifted. A moment later, two phosphorescent eyes glowed out of the dark and a deep growl rumbled from beneath a pile of old machine parts.

I immediately called Stan.

“Something growled at me in my shed,” I told him.


“From its size, I doubt if it is native to the region. I’ll bet it is something you left there.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, vaguely recalling something, “I’d avoid that if I were you.”

“When are you going to come and get it?” I asked.

“Are you crazy?” he said, “I ain’t going anywhere near that thing again.”

So I went to The Big Box Store and bought a wrecking bar.

It didn’t take long to remove the door.  While I was loading it for the trip to the landfill, my wife stopped me.

“Hey, where are you going with that?”

Warning: She watches HGTV.

It is a curse.

Beaming with enthusiasm, she said, “I have all kinds of design ideas!”

“Where do you want me to put it in the meantime?” I asked…..

As if I didn’t know.

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