A Plea to My Husband from Our Garage

O Master of the house,

I am blighted and ashamed. Lift your hand to me, and I will be restored. Once, I stood, open and ready before you. Now my contents spill over like vomit from a drunk. Your neighbors to the south snicker as they pass; your own children hold their noses against my stench. In shame, they lift their scooters and roll out through the house. In shame, they enter only through the front door. In shame, my mouth remains shut.

But you, my master, have the power to lift this ruin from me. Remember when I was new, when you saw that I was good and housed your car and not trash in my belly. Do this for me this weekend, master, that I may lift my door and show my glory to your neighbors. He is good, they will say. We were mistaken. Your children will access my innermost parts and the feet of your bride will alight upon my floor once more.

And for you, I will house you in comfort and organization forevermore.

7 comments:

Kim Kasch said...

Did the plea work?

Sandy Nawrot said...

Hmmm...so is this what it takes? Is it effective?

Pastrami said...

"I will house you" hmm...is someone gonna be living in the garage soon?

Danette Haworth said...

Did it work? This is one of those To be continued events!

Pastrami-- Haha! Hmm . . .

Charles Gramlich said...

Uhm, have you missed a few meds? ;)

Mary Witzl said...

Oooh...I hate to think what the underside of our bed is saying.

I'll definitely be back to see whether this paid off. It should have.

Danette Haworth said...

Haha, Mary! The garage received a light (i.e. LIGHT) touch over the weekend, but I'm hoping for total excavation this Saturday.

We'll see!