We didn’t know our garage was being used as a crack house until this weekend when we cleaned it out. Judging by how long we’ve had some of the lawn products where we discovered the evidence, this appears to be a two-year operation.
We wouldn’t have suspected a thing if Skye hadn’t purchased a leaf blower two weekends ago. He finally bought one to prepare the driveway before he applied the sealant. I’ve secretly wanted a leaf blower since last year when I saw a neighbor using one to “sweep” his garage. If I had a leaf blower I, too, could have a garage in museum condition. You know, in keeping with the house.
How did our garage become like one of those garages that I peer into on my dog walks and wonder about the mental health of the homeowner? Choked with athletic gear the boys never touch. Wheeled toys they’ve outgrown mounted on the walls like deer heads. We were so proud when we bagged them but now they just hang on the wall and mock us. The back of the garage is worse. Cluttered with miscellaneous crap Skye and I place with the intention of it being only temporary. I’ll bring that to Goodwill…this coming…later…
If we didn’t get that leaf blower, in just a few more years of this madness our garage could look like Connie the Hoarder’s. Connie is my 65-year old neighbor who lives alone. One curb treasure at a time, Connie has buried half of her garage, leaving just enough room to pull her car in and out. There used to be a path earlier in the year but, after all the summer yard sales, I think she gets in and out of her car by crawling under it.
Who am I to judge? While Connie’s garage is storing useless crap, ours is a crack den. In the middle of winter mice discovered the grass seed and the earth friendly corn gluten fertilizer we had stashed in the back. They even got into the weed killer. I noticed a large hole in the bag as I was moving all the lawn care items to their designated spot, instead of along the back wall where someone — whose name I won’t mention because my husband’s co-workers are now reading my blog — had put them. I didn’t see any dead mice nearby the mound of poison. This could only mean one thing. They’re getting high on this shit. Weed killer is like crack for mice.
Evidence of extravagant mouse orgies was sprawled about the toxic mound. Shredded plastic bags and twine where they’d made mad crackhead love were strewn about. Next to that were remnants of Chex mix and Jell-O shots. Crack house by night, bed and breakfast by day.
We shut that party down yesterday. The garbage cans are overflowing. Things we should have thrown out years ago are gone. Toys have been dropped off on a neighborhood church’s doorstep. I wrote on the sides of the box “Free Toys!” I think the exclamation mark will make them feel lucky, and hopefully they won’t kick the box and say, “Not again! Do I look like a dump to you!?”
Today is the day I’ve been waiting for for the last year when I first saw the leaf blower put to use as a broom. I get to don the WWI gas mask, mount that motorcycle engine on my back and blast all evidence of mouse merriment and homeowner neglect in one big billowy cloud, like Pigpen on the Peanuts, only motorized and on a mission.
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