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Things have started appearing on our barn porch.
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Rusty things.
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Old things.
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Things that look like my husband chose them.
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He swears he didn’t, and since we weren’t home when these things showed up? I have to believe him.
Someone is leaving things on our porch.
Things we don’t need.
We have more than enough things!
So please, whoever did this?
Keep your things to yourself.
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Work continued on the big barn ceiling insulation project and one corner was finished.
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And as I knew would happen, the covered pool table became a repository for stuff.
(Not to be confused with a suppository for stuff, because no one wants the husband’s stuff there.)
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On this day I was given the task of hauling more useless crap treasure upstairs.
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In case you were wondering…. the answer to the question how much stuff is too much stuff? has yet to be determined.
Christ, there’s even stuff hanging from the rafters.
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Antique collectibles…. or torture chamber implements?
Tough call.
But downstairs, stuffing progress was made.
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And yes, there’s a bathroom sink on the love seat.
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I think it looks quite comfortable, don’t you.
Was it our sink? No.
Did we need an ugly ass shell shaped sink from the 1970’s? No.
But we have it all the same, because….
Say it with me now:
It was free!
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One side of the ceiling was fully stuffed when the husband realized he had a problem.
I would tell you his problem was not listening to me 5 years ago when he insisted on putting these ugly, bright as the surface of the sun, fluorescent lights in…
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And running them on one electrical line with no junction boxes, but I doubt he would admit it…. because, you know. Men.
But now that he’s outfitting his man cave with a heat pump, insulation and a ceiling …. he’s changed his mind about those ugly ass lights and wants to put up these more attractive, appropriately rustic fixtures instead.
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Which is great, except there are no junction boxes and they’re all on the same line.
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Not being an electrician, he’s been pondering this predicament for a while…. and was forced to set up temporary lighting. (Which throws an equivalent BTU level as the bonfire at Burning Man. I swear our electric meter was spinning so fast there was smoke…. and the stock holders of Central Maine Power were chortling with glee.)
If he figures this all out without electrocuting himself and/ or burning down the barn, I’ll be sure to let you know.
Another weekend in the big barn insulation/ceiling project commenced, but this time reinforcements were needed on day 1.
Because in as little as an hour? We proved that I can’t reliably hold plywood panels over my head long enough for my husband to figure out where to screw them.
Go figure.
So with the help of a friend, insulation was stuffed, plywood was screwed and the part that gives me hives took place.
The husband…. playing with live electrical wires.
This is not a good combination and doesn’t always end well… but no one was electrocuted, so we call that a win.
The bane of my current existence pool table was moved to it’s new home spot.
And after a little trial and error, no toes were broken.
Also a win.
As soon as it was set up?
It was covered with plywood and a very rugged protector…. because no man cave should be without a touch of lace.
The next day we were off to Lowes for a tad more insulation.
Ka-ching!
We dragged it inside, and then all the crap that started here….
That was then moved over here….
Had to be moved upstairs.
Ask me again how much I’m loving this free pool table.
Go ahead, I dare you.
Once the temporarily mounted my ass stereo was uncovered, the husband found part of my old collection of 1980’s cassette tapes.
And while I stand by my CSN, Queen, Clapton, Dire Straits and Grateful Dead picks….. the 2020 River cringed at the sight of Madonna, Richard Marx and the Bangles.
UB40.
WTH?
And if that wasn’t bad enough..
He also found a box of albums he bought sight unseen at a yard sale years ago…. which meant this was blasting from his recently mounted speakers:
All Night Long?
No.
Preferably not even for 5 minutes.
It’s not often I get to tell my husband to stuff it, but lately….
There’s been ample opportunity.
There’s a whole lotta stuffing going on.
OSHA approved light fixture removal?
Not quite.
But it was in the way of the stuff.
And there’s a lot more stuff that needs to be stuffed.
But progress was made.
And other lights worked around.
Heck, the husband even found an old box of masks in one of his piles of stuff.
Stuff.
When you’re doing a lot of stuffing?
You need a lot of stuff.
Truck loads full of stuff.
Stuff that needs to be dragged across the porch….
Through the little door… (because the big doors are temporarily blocked)
Stuff that has to be carefully maneuvered past all the other indoor stuff….
And stored amongst useless piles of other stuff.
(Yes, that’s a giant metal chicken. It was a gift I can’t seem …or want… to find a place for.)
Once the stuff was in the building, stuffing resumed.
Although there was a bit too much stuff in the way.
So stuff was moved from here..
To here….
But then that stuff was in the way of the temporarily blocked doors and it’s stereo.
Stuff blocking the power button?
No problem.
A pool cue reaches over the massive pile of stuff.
Feel free to roll your eyes.
That was his reason for coming home with this:
He saw it on the side of the road on his way home from Lowes.
Imagine it.
Someone no longer wanted this filthy, faded, and broken in two places crab sand box.
The husband thought one of our neighbor’s kids would want it, which was thoughtful.
But guess what?
None of them did.
So it shouldn’t surprise you that this is where it ended the day.
Never let it be said life with my husband is dull.
Take the other day for example…. he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride up the coast.
Envisioning a leisurely scenic drive along the crystal blue ocean, I jumped at the chance.
This is where we ended up.
A salvage yard.
And it’s a testament to how much I love that man that I was actually thrilled.
Thrilled that he was willing to throw a few things out and not dump pick to add to his collection.
Marriage.
It’s funny that way.
Although what this sign was originally warning against I’m sure I don’t know.
Beware!
Oreo cows ahead?
Into an already packed to capacity barn….
Came this:
A pool table that our soon to be ex friends couldn’t wait to get rid of.
Have you ever tried to lift a pool table?
If not, I don’t recommend it.
F*cker be heavy.
Our friends were so eager to see the back side of this thing they also gave us 2 little wheeled platforms to assist in it’s departure.
Which were great, until the table had to be picked up off of them.
So there it sits.
Now….and for the foreseeable future. ( Which should be read as forever, or until I can find some other unsuspecting friend to pass it off on )
It will sit there, a constant reminder of the fact that my husband can not pass up anything that is free.
Ever.
No matter how big and how useless.
But look….
It also came with a free stand, free cue sticks, ( Miller Lite? That abomination has got to go! ) free bags of balls and numerous free tacky game room signs.
What’s not love?
I got a few of them the other day.
One was how quickly the husband managed to junk up the few clear spaces of big barn floor we’d worked so hard to find.
After all these years it shouldn’t surprise me, but it did.
Here’s a new addition he must have smuggled in when I wasn’t looking.
The next surprise was how he expected me to help him clear floor space in there again because…. are you ready for it?
He was bringing home a pool table.
What?
Where!
And for the love of all that’s holy…. why?
Yes, a pool table.
Where? I have no idea. Because unless it measures 4×6 inches it’s not going to fit.
Why? Because his friend’s wife wanted it gone and it was free.
* Insert giant eye roll here*
So we tried to clear room…
But since the husband won’t part with anything? We just ended up with wider paths.
And if all that wasn’t bad enough….
The final surprise of the day came when he opened the big barn doors and found this:
See it?
A giant squirrel nest.
No more wondering where momma squirrel went.
That bitch has been busy.
You would not believe how much crap tumbled out of that small space.
And btw…. remember how I blamed the baby woodchucks for ripping the stuffing out of my porch furniture?
I was wrong.
There it was, providing fluffy bedding for the revolting red rodent and her brood.
I seriously hate that squirrel.
Get a grip.
I made a trek to the grocery store today where I was met with the same empty ‘oh my God the sky is falling and we’ll never be able to buy dish soap again’ shelves.
Yes, dish soap.
Good grief, are we still doing this?
By all means wear a mask to protect others.
Preferably color coordinated to your shirt.
But enough with the ‘we must fill the underground bunker with every canned good in a 600 mile radius’ mentality.
The news squawks about meat shortages…. but the cases were full of every conceivable type of flesh imaginable.
But rice?
Unless you want red quinoa brown…. which I didn’t, and never will ….. no can do.
Tolerant chick pea and green lentil pasta?
No, damn it! I have no tolerance for that.
Toilet paper? Nope.
Not unless you’re supposed to use those strategically placed plastic loofahs.
Look… there’s one shaped like an ice cream cone!
That has possibilities.
The lack of eggs was definitely a new development.
When I spoke with the cashier she assured me that they do get regular deliveries and stock the shelves as they always have. No one has an explanation for the continued panic buying after all this time.
It really is getting old, as well as ridiculous.
