Garage=The Bane of my existence

Remember how the whole experience of closing on your house is a blur of paperwork and checks? Once the dust settled and I took stock of my homestead, I figured out that the garage had been excluded from everything. Should I have realized this sooner? You bet. I don’t even know when or how that information was determined, but everyone else was aware of it long before I was.

The upshot of this is that my tiny cement garage is in dire need of a new roof and (probably) new rafters, joists, beams, you name it—it needs it. I’ve got guys coming to “demo” the rotten and moldy ceiling on Thursday, so I spent today clearing out my clutter: snow tires, bike, kayak, woodpile, piles o’ plastic buckets, lawn tools, gardening crap, etc.

Here’s the problem: it’s hard to feel good about spending money on a structure you rarely use and kind of don’t care about. I mean, I know I need to do it, but wouldn’t a new tile floor in my bathroom be so much cuter? Or how about a new fall wardrobe for teaching? Or a yoga trip to Mexico? There’s easily ten things I’d rather do with my money than spend it on the building of mold that is my garage.

Big sigh. Yet another chapter in real estate reality.

On the brighter side of things, I had to laugh when I went to pay my yoga teacher last night and there was my brand new orange container of Elmer’s Wood Filler in my purse.

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