The Garage. A Point Of Contention.

From September 7 and the aftermath of Irene: I'm just a tad upset. After I spent 12 hours getting everything out of the garage, letting it dry off in the driveway, and after buying all those wonderful new storage shelves, I was excited about neatly organizing everything and putting everything back in, and most importantly, actually being able to park my truck in here. It is a garage, after all. Sadly, that didn't happen. Mr. Hawthorne started pulling crap in while I wasn't watching and made a freakin' mess.

One of the few times he "helps" and this is what I end up with.

Rosie had to start over.

First think I did was to unscrew the rusting metal storage rack that was here. Scrubbed it with steel wool, let it dry, then I spray painted with some kind of acrylic stuff. Camo colors. I sucked up as many black widows and brown recluses as I could with the shop-vac, then bleach-sprayed the whole area.

There's my pile. Everyday, people drive by looking for ... anything.

Lookey! Everything is out.

I brought back in the spray painted metal shelving on the left and put up all the car stuff. I put all the paint and caulking on the wooden shelving. I knocked in a few nails and hung up some stuff in the middle.

Rosie has been under tremendous pressure every day to take care of the carport, the utility room, the storage area under the steps going up and down, and Mid-H's bedroom. Mr. H.'s shop is at the last of my list. I've been the only one to clean up his shop even though he's the only one that uses it. Seems fair. He hasn't used it in 12 years, so it's not my priority. The carport, utility room, Middle Hawthorne's bedroom are all ground level. Think 3 feet of water during Irene last Saturday. Rosie is digressing here a bit, so please bear with me. Right after Irene, I single-handedly took EVERYTHING out of the garage. I dumped it on the driveway. Then I pressure-blew everything out of the carport. I hosed it out. I bleached it. I brushed all the water/bleach out. I left everything out for 4-5 days. Airing out. With the occasional bleaching just for good measure. Drying out. Then Mr. H. thought it was going to rain. I don't know where he gets his information from, but I'd wish he'd ask me first. HE brought in all of my mother's sunning and drying cookbooks and dumped them in a plastic container in the carport which I found today. One week later. Wet. I started working on the carport this morning about 9 AM. My goal? Clean the entire carport. My reality? Clean off two shelves of Mr. Hawthorne's. The first shelf was metal. Covered in rust. I unscrewed it from the wall, took it outside, took some steel scrub brushes to it, cleaned it well, dried it, sprayed it with some type of acrylic stuff, and did a fairly good job. I let the metal shelf dry, then screwed it back in place. I organized all the paints and the car stuff. Oils, leather seat stuff, brake fluid, oils, tire spray. Unbelievable. All after I'd vac'd and bleached-sprayed from the concrete up 3 feet. It's 5:15 pm and I'm whupped. Mr. Hawthorne drives in. We go inside together. I apologize for the way the inside house looks. It looks the same as when he left this morning except I've cleaned up all his breakfast crap. I say to him, in my defense, "It's taken me all day to clean two freakin' shelves in the carport." His response????!!!! "You must've taken a lot of breaks." Rosie doesn't Tweet. Rosie doesn't really know what tweeting, twittering, whatever is. But if I did TWEET, or TWIT, this is what I'd TWITTER right now: "I musta taken too many breaks."

Let's see. What else did Rosie do today? Oh yeah. She took a lot of breaks.

She took a break from cleaning out Middle Hawthorne's bedroom.

She took a break from bleach-spraying the concrete.

She took a break with Dixie.

She took a break from Pine-Sol-ing her rugs. And she still needed help cleaning up branches and crap.

Oh, Mr. Hawthorne. We have issues. Right now. DH. Most polite ladies in computer forums refer to their husbands as DH. I'm believing it to mean "Dear Husband." Hrh! I meant to make a "Heh," but I like the typo "Hrh" better. My DH doesn't mean "Dear Husband." And no one has ever accused me of being a lady. Mine rhymes with "sick bed." Tell me I didn't need to explain this to you.