Ben loves to chase the dog. He’s relentless at times. We’ve tried putting him in his playpen for a couple minutes. We’ve tried slapping his leg. Nothing phases him. A moving target is just too much fun. Cockers are not known for getting along well with children, and Lexie, who lived with us for 10 years before we brought Benjamin home, is a classic example.
The garage is one step closer. Saturday, while Ben spent some time with his grammy, I put together some metal shelves we bought for the garage. Then, we moved some things out to the driveway to make room to work. We emptied every box that said “garage” on it, with most of it going on the new shelves. My wife’s organizational bent amazes me.
I’m pretty sure part of me melted when I went into the attic to measure the space for putting down plywood (or whatever is good these days). We’ll get that done one of these days, and then maybe get our cars in the garage.
We won’t be putting as many books on display in this house as we usually do. There just isn’t room, and we really don’t need to be reminded visually of what books we’ve read. All those paperbacks just take up space. Oh no, now I’m starting to sound like her! She’s killing my inner packrat!
We bought a dining set from Jeff Bridges.
Stupidity sometimes comes from people who are not stupid. I hope.
I got out there and was ready to mow the new lawn for the first time. I had my new Black and Decker Grasshog, no-bump feed, 5.5 amp, electric weed trimmer that, with just the flip of a switch and a flick of the wrist, becomes an edger.
An extension cord was nowhere to be found. We had boxed it up for the move, and I didn’t have time for a swim in the sea of boxes our garage had become.