Park It

Since we were complete lay-arounds on Saturday, Z and I put purpose to Sunday and did a small home improvement project: cleaning up the garage. The old me would pull as far into the garage as possible, using a little tap to the weed trimmer with my front bumper as a sign that I had enough room to scoot around the back of the car and into the house. The new me pulls into the garage fearlessly, but still making sure not to hit the lawn care equipment with the front of the car. What facilitated this new, daring attitude about garage parking? This:

Two little shelves have almost convinced me that I'm pulling into someone else's garage.

Looks like a simple enough project, but it was one that took the better part of the afternoon. I got to increase my skill with shop tools as I basked in my new-found love of the electric drill, used the shopvac to suck up old spider webs

and their treasures, and use the shop broom to sweep out months of dirt and debris. It wasn't a glamorous job, but as a homeowner I feel it my duty to get dirty like that once in a while. It's a luxury that Z affords me since he takes on the tasks of mowing the yard and weed trimming. Don't judge, I make out the grocery list and take lead on dinners. As much as I rallied against it in the early years and even before we got married, it seems like we're fulfilling our traditional marital, gender roles. Eh, seems to be working.

Blue wondering how long it can take to put up a couple of shelves and hang a couple of bikes

Although I consider myself someone who can put up with a fair share of slovenliness, I do likes me some organization. It can make the different between falling asleep peacefully, or falling asleep with a subconscious writing its own to-do list and never setting its head down on the pillow. My head has been whirling enough on its own this week.

Ooh, fire flys outside!