So I consider our recent decision to renovate our basement from "unfinished" to "completely and absolutely and without question unfinished" a bit of a rainbow after a series of storms. (Ha ha ... neighbors know what I'm talking about!)
Recently borrowed from my good friend and lawyer, who is also middle guy's Godfather, are a sledgehammer and crowbar, called by my alley neighbor, an accountant by trade, a "persuader." Imagine what Scott Turow could do with all that.
I know that my job today while Kevin was out of town was to finish emptying the basement of all our stored (and now that I see them spread all around my dining room, back patio, garage and delivered and donated to the Maryville Crisis Nursery's resale shop) mostly unnecessary belongings.
But I had this newly acquired sledgehammer and crowbar. And it's been a long time since I've purposely destroyed something. (Surely I'm destroying one child or another's self-esteem or confidence on a regular basis, but we won't know for sure until they complete their therapy when they're adults, right?)
I bribed myself. Finish emptying these four shelving units, drag them out to the garbage ... then you can know what a crowbar wedged between wall and floorboard feels like, what a sledgehammer swung at older-than-dirt drywall sounds like.
Sweet. It feels and sounds sweet.
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