I was out of town this weekend--at the National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, TN (worthy of an entire blog, all by itself). When I called Chris Sunday to tell him when I'd be home, he said he had a surprise, but wouldn't tell me what it was.
All I had to do was pull in the driveway to know what he'd done, the angel. Even in the dark, I could see the garage door was open--the garage sits behind the house, in a very dark part of a dark yard--and there was room for me to park inside! I haven't parked my car--an eleven-year-old Mustang convertible that I dearly love--in the garage since God's dog was a pup. It's one of the drawbacks to being married to a packrat remodeling contractor with no basement to call his own.
Cleaning out the garage is the first step in the remodeling of the entire garage/chicken room building. (Chris calls it the "carriage house," but I figure until all remnants of chickens and their droppings are gone from the building, it doesn't deserve to be called something as high-brow as Carriage House.) And it's a huge step--right up there with the first walk on the moon!
Maybe I should go out of town again! He might get the whole chicken room finished if I stay gone long enough! And then I might just break down and call it the Carriage House--but only if I can still park my carriage in the garage!