The Garage

C’mon people!  You know I am a walker.  If you leave your garage doors open, I am going to gawk.

So, there’s Mr. Organized: There are hooks and shelves for everything.  Bikes are hung neatly on the wall. Hoses wrapped tightly and slung over a holder, ready to squirt anything that comes along.   Pesticides and bags of potting soil are on the shelves.  Plastic containers, neatly labeled are stacked, hiding mysterious contents.   A tool box sits next to that waiting for anything at all to break down.  The floor is pristine.   Where do they put the cars?

Did you know your neighbor is a hoarder? 

No cars are parked inside.  They sit in the driveway, ousted by boxes piled from floor to ceiling with who knows what.  There are rows upon rows of open crates and I spy a stainless steel toaster, some old planters, crutches, board games no longer played, a stack of newspapers (okay, multiple stacks), a pile of magazines, an actual store’s worth of old paint cans, paint dripping down the sides – white, cream, tan, brown, brick, and peacock blue?  Was that a mistake or intentional?  Where did you use that color?  There may be a fridge back by the door, but I am not sure.  It could really be anything.  Along the side, there is a carefully carved out path – a fire exit?  An emergency out?  Do you know this number?  1- 800 - Got JUNK?  Yes, you!  I mean you - DIAL NOW.

How about the garage that has a woodcutter’s bench and tools all hung up on peg boards?  Wood chips are scattered everywhere.  There are a few chairs around the bench as if the family members come to watch a show. 

Every now and then I pass a very clean garage with a car inside that is covered.  Wow.  The car must be super special to be both inside a garage and covered.  I’m dying to sneak a peek.  What if I get caught?  Were they the ones with the big-bark dog?  I walk by, just a little faster.