We have a shop. It is here:
Sometimes I called it the shed. But the shed is here:
For the sake of the posting, I am talking about the shop, not the shed. Got it? Good.
I f-ing hate the shop. It is dark, dirty, cold, loud, and not a place for girls. At least not sissy girls. A sissy girl is someone who does not want to look at the mouse nest inside the idle Bronco chillin' in the shop. Or a girl who thinks she will for sure, most definitely fall from the homemade (before us) ladder that has loose steps and is coming loose from the wall. Seriously. This ladder is approx a 70 degree angle to the wall and it has no rails or support. I pretty much crawl up the thing 15 feet to the top and then when I have to come back down, with a cat carrier, skis, and/or Christmas decorations (that is what we keep up there...only things I need apparently) I stand at the top for a good 2 minutes debating how I am going to get down. Can I throw the skis to the ground and carefully, one step at a time/two feet on the same step-type walk back down? No. I must carry this, sometimes 8 lbs, object from the top to the bottom. I sweat. I almost cry. I usually end up going backwards like a sissy and try hard to hold onto my object. I fret with each step swearing the nails will not hold. I swear to jesus, one day, they will NOT hold. Mark my words.
Of course T walks up and down this ladder like he is Jesus (or Moses..hm?) walking gracefully on water. He even walks down facing forward with something in his arms and doesn't even look at each step. He WILL fall. Mark my words. Wait...don't.
When we first moved in, I avoided the shop like the H1N1 virus (and shot). T had mentioned he found a dead rat/squirrel/hairycarcass in the corner and hadn't cleaned it up. When I was forced into the shop I avoided all eye contact with any corner. I did NOT want to catch a glimpse of that thing. Seeing it would make the dead thing real and I would never ever want to return. Even if I really needed the cat carrier. I would let Sam roam the car on the way to the vet, even if that meant him getting on the dash and REALLY wanting to sit right in front of my vision to be pet. At least that would be precious and less dangerous than seeing a dead animal!
Not to mention, the Bronco is in the shop. Not running. Duh. The bronco in itself is scary. Did I mention the mouse nest in the engine? The former bee hive in the engine? The poisonous mold growing on the seat covers? The fact that T used to love that hunko'junk more then me?
Needless to say, I don't go into the shop regularly, and I break out in a cold sweat if I have to go in there myself. When I unlock the door and open it, I swear a raccoon will come running out with his rat and mouse buddies. They will mow me down because they are so hungry. They would have already eaten all the foam out of the Bronco's seats and drank all the pop out of the Big Gulp "thermos" that has been sitting in there for 3 years. Oh god!
So I hope you get an idea of how hard it is for me to appreciate the shop. Everyone in the county has one though. You have to have one. It stores all your shit. Obviously. Oh yea, I almost forgot the spiders. I am sure there are big brown spiders in there too, everyone has them in their shop.
With that said, we have decided to use the shop as our "dance barn" for the wedding. Slap your leg and call me silly. Nice, huh? After all that, how could I let my pretty white dress in that shit hole? After making Tyler scrub it WITH SOAP and decorate it with lights, that's how. It must be free of all scary things, maybe the ladder too? Oh god, please the ladder. An escalator would be nice in its place. (Installed after the wedding of course, there wouldn't be enough dancegetyourfreakon room with an escalator, der!)
I think it will work. I think I can do this. But I figured I should give you just warning.