This is My Garage

You can keep the living room, the dining room, the den, the bathrooms and all of the bedrooms. All I ask for is the garage. My last single form of individuality and my “tag” free home base. Ever wonder what the big deal about the garage was? Read the 3rd line back to yourself 10 times then get back to me.

The garage is the last realm of man. You may sissify me on many aspects of life except for the garage. Where else would I organize all of my “honey-do” materials? Let me hold on to my one last bit of humanity that I have. I need my garage for my sanity of manhood. Where else can I gather with the local neighborhood escapees? And yes, dear neighbor’s better half, please let him keep his so that I may have an escape pod too. Poor Bob got to keep his but to my disgust, it was adorned with linen and lace sun curtains. Oh Bob, wherefore art thou?

Let us not spend too much time on Bob’s demise. Instead, let us focus on those who are on the brink of letting go of that last bit of sanity known as The Garage. Let us stand up and fight for their rights! I would set up a Union of Garage Men for the sake of all humanity, but this weekend I have to trim the hedges and plant some bulbs. Next few weekends I have to fix the latch on the gate, refinish the front door, repair a few shingles, find out why the bathroom ground fault plug keeps tripping, flush the water heater, find out what little Susie tossed in the garbage disposal, remove the grease spot from the driveway, and paint the wood trim. So I guess the Union of Garage Men will have to wait.

When I want to have a get together with the guys at Home Depot or Lowe’s, I wonder if I have to now have some invites with rsvp’s printed out to send to the guys? Is pink a good choice of color? Maybe I’ll let the better half decide that for me. See, I have learned something throughout the years. And where do you suppose I had the time to think and consider things? That’s right, the garage. Had it not been for my home base, tag free zone escape pod, where else would I have been able to spend time thinking about “things”. But I regress, the garage.

Some might say it is my last piece of childhood and that I just don’t want to let go of it. Some might say that it is a childish thing for me to have such an attachment to my garage. Some might say that I use it to escape my wife and children. Some might say that I use it to ignore all the other responsibilities that I carry as a man and a father. Some have even said it is a psychological issue and that I cannot grow up until I leave it. But in all that said, I usually respond with: “Awe honey, please let me stay in here 30 more minutes”. Then I’ll light my cigar, sit back in my old lounge chair and watch the afternoon sporting event on my portable TV.

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