The Garage

In some fit of pique or other after a persistent,soaking week of rain, I abandoned the garage-as-study, moved the wireless modem to my room, and have proceeded to amass large stacks of books with little regard for space much less order.

As a consequence, the garage has returned to what many garages return to, a place for putting things that won't fit anywhere else, and how about a place where you store things you know you won't be using for some months, not to forget a special place for stuff too good to throw or give away and thus likely subjects for a yard sale.

ENK has observed that holidays are tough on dogs; I believe she is right. In a similar vein, I believe any time of year is tough for garages. There are undoubtedly places where being a garage is not fraught with peril or malaise; I am even willing to concede that the occasional good thing happens in a garage. I found in mine just this past week a volume of Edward S. Curtis photos of native Americans, which was a stunning discovery. There was also a notebook in which I'd essayed some short stories, most of which still intrigued me, many of which had almost entirely survived those soaking rains of some years back.

This garage has undergone some identity surgery. When it came my way, it was intended to store one wide auto or two of the Weight Watchers' width. After some weeks with particle board, nails, a good deal of missed hammer blows, and some misadventures with fluorescent lighting fixtures, the garage became an office, library, and a place where it appeared possible to store things in a neat fashion. The mailman, you know, the one who goes drinking with Jim Harrison, allowed that it was one swell new venue, a place where he wouldn't mind hanging out for a time. The FedEx delivery man, who swims laps at the nearby Y, admitted to a pang of envy. And for the longest time, I was content, but fits of pique have a funny way of changing things. The garage, for all its riches of stuff, has gotten out of hand and needs extreme feng shui.

I know you can't go home again; I wonder if there is any return to the garage.