My house is a disaster.
Not a pretend, Oh look! I’m mortified. The can labels aren’t straight disaster or a Golly, who left their keys on the table disaster. I mean a REAL disaster.
Living in a hairy armpit disaster.
Case in point:
This is where I keep my pressure canner …
And my drill …
And somewhere in here is a 1932 Studebaker, Amelia Earhart and the cure for hiccups.
There are a variety of reasons for this mess. Too much to do, too little time. An insatiable curiosity for what it would take to make myself go completely mess crazy, running and screaming up and down the street with hairpins flying out of my hair. (I’m not there yet)
But mainly it’s because I’m getting some spray foam insulation done in my basement. So I had to shove everything in the basement to the centre to allow the workers room to spray. My basement is about the size of a very large box of instant potatoes. Conversely the contents of my basement could fill most of Ireland.
No excuse for the last picture, (the potting shed) really. There was some reason for the mess, but I can’t remember it anymore. Mainly I’d just rather play with the chickens than clean it up.
So this weekend is the weekend of getting things back in order.
Because I am organized. I am neat. I am an accomplisher.
And I really need my pressure canner.
The good part is you’ll all be getting a post on how to build VERY fast and easy basement shelves in the near future. Well … I guess that’s only good if you’d like to build VERY fast and easy basement shelves. In that’s not the case … there really is no good part for you.
You see, if I’m putting my basement back together I might as well make it better than it was before. In its best shape it basically looks like the pictures above, only everything is more spread out. So I’m custom building shelves to go around a lot of the perimeter of the basement. Cheaper than buying shelves and this way I can make them the exact size I need them.
Have a good weekend. I will be having a miserable weekend. If you’re going to the beach or on a picnic or reading or BBQing or going for walks or riding stallions I DON’T want to hear about it. Shush. YOU. YOU THERE WEARING THE CHAPS, HOLDING THE MEAT THERMOMETER. SHUSHHHHHHHHH. SHUT UP.
Don’t wanna hear it.