Back in November, we were forced to empty our basement so that the foundation of our house could be repaired. The whole process made me feel like some sort of gross consumer a-hole, which in turn led to my spending hiatus of indefinite length. I wrote about it here, but really, don't bother because it's one of my earlier posts and it makes me cringe a little bit.
Here is what our garage looked like when we dumped the contents of our basement into it:
Although the repairs were completed within 2 weeks, it took us FORFUCKINGEVER to sort through all of our crap. We donated a lot of it, trashed a lot and put some back in the basement. There are only a few stubborn items that refuse to magically disappear and allow both of us to park in the garage:
Box springs for a double mattress. Did you know that the Salvation Army will not take this? WHY?! As part of a non-violent protest, we are refusing to move it back down to the basement. So here it stays until the Salvation Army bows to our pressure.
Prominent in the garage is a farm table which fit nicely into our old brick bungalow, but just looks too country in this house. Frank refuses to move this (with me at least) because I am a big pussy and will bang up the walls and whine a lot trying to get it back into the basement. We may just sell it because we are too lazy to move it 15 feet and down some stairs.
I don't know if you can see a smidge of orange behind the farm table, but those are the beloved* Broncos stadium seats, purchased by Frank when Mile High Stadium was torn down. When we eventually finish our basement and turn it into one big shrine to the Broncos**, the seats will be the centerpiece, along with this:
Ah, the John Elway stand-up liquor store display that manages to scare the shit out of one of us at least twice a week due to his extremely life-like presence in the garage. Love it!***
One last thing, because everyone, even strangers walking by our house, asks "what are those dental chairs doing in the back? Are you a dentist?" The answer is no, no, a thousand times no. They are antique barber chairs we brought from Kansas when my dad closed his clothing store. They are the heaviest mothereffing chairs you will ever see in your life, but the plan is that they will go in our basement (when we finish it) right by the pool table in the Broncos shrine.
So there you have it. When two cars are able to fit into the garage again, I will let you know. It will probably be around the time the Broncos shrine in finished, so . . . yeah. See you then.
* Okay, they are not beloved AT ALL by me, but I said that because I am trying to make up to Frank for calling him a fucktard in the comments of this post. I am so sorry Frank! Who knew you even read this blog? I was just trying to bond with Elaine and got carried away.
**Still trying to kiss up to Frank but there will be no Broncos shrine. Shhhhhh.
***No I don't but I love you, Frank!