When I left the northern end of southern nowhere Monday morning for a week long business trip behind enemy lines (anywhere north of the Tallahatchie River suffices for that appellation) my new garage/workshop was only several 5 x 5 posts ringing a bare patch of ground across the parking pad from our home. As I drove up the drive on Eegeebeegee Friday afternoon and rounded the corner at the top of the ridge, my tired eyes beheld one of the most beautiful sights a man can see--the shell of an empty building, complete with concrete deck, waiting for my finishing touches.
Yesterday, as my father-in-law and I built in stud walls, ran wiring and began hanging the grid for a drop ceiling, I kept pausing to admire the 1100 square feet of room for all my stuff (present and future collected). It's hard to imagine filling that space with enough things in it as to make it unusable and a needed item unfindable amid the packed jumble. Even more unimaginable is the fact that our present garage may actually be used for the parking of both Miss Brenda's car and my truck. At present, our garage brims with so much stuff that there is little room for passage, let along parkage.
It dawns on me that I need a plan. Actually, I need two plans. Plan A will be marked unclassified--the load plan for the new building. I'll enlist Miss Brenda in the drafting of this plan--she is a wiz at organization. This should also make it easier to accomplish Plan B. Classified TS/SCI (Truly Secret/She Can't Imagine)--Plan B will be the plan for making the actual cross-parking-pad transfer of previously mentioned stuff Miss Brenda's chore.
I feel another business trip coming on.