I know I say this often, but I really miss writing daily. When I don't spend time writing, I feel like the creative energy just continues to build up and it just comes out in bursts in other avenues. I've been spending time writing entries in another blog I started. It's not as exciting as this blog though. That's all I'm going to say.

I also tend to have a penchant for writing poems. I've always loved creating poems and rhyming things. Sometimes they come to me quickly in my head and other times I may spend several minutes, hours, or days writing one piece. I've written way more than you think I have. People just don't know about it. And, no, I don't have this dark side of me that I let out in poems... I just like expressing thoughts and ideas through literal imagery. That's it. Most of the poems are about life, the people I care about, and ice cream. Because I love ice cream. Don't judge me.

Anyway. This blog entry will not be a poem. In an attempt to continue to share about the awesomeness of things about my life, here's a story from this past week.

I generally leave my house on Sunday mornings by 6:15AM. This past Sunday, as I was walking through my living room to head out the door, this is what I saw out my window into the backyard: (This picture was not actually taken at that time... it was much darker in the morning).


At first glance, I thought to myself, "Why did someone take everything out of my shed and put it in the back yard? And then take the shed?" I mean, I know with this economy, people are facing hard times, but taking a shed and leaving the stuff inside is really bad. I could only assume that the shed-abductors had enough broken rakes and plastic plant pots.

Anyway. I didn't have time to deal with it Sunday morning. My mind is in a special place on Sunday morning--I rarely give anything a second thought if it isn't related to producing services for Southside on Sunday morning. So, I left it like it was.

That afternoon, I came back to the house with my girlfriend Rachelle and we scoped out the damage. The shed was still there, surprisingly. I just couldn't see it in the dark. We had a bad storm over the weekend and it blew the whole shed over, leaving the foundation and everything just sitting on the slab.


So, while not relieved (because, hey, it was just a bunch of junk in a shed... plus the lawn mower), it was interesting to know what really happened. We looked at it for a few minutes and then left.

On Monday afternoon, my landlords (read: my parents who own the house that I rent) came over to scope out the damage for themselves and help fix the situation. I did a pretty good job of letting them do most of the work while making it look like I was helping. That's not true. I did a fair amount of work. We cleaned a lot of it up and threw away a lot of the junk.

All in all, we found like 12 broken rakes, some clippers that were missing a handle, 387 plastic pots, 2 buckets of seashells, a broken grill, and some other random things.


I enjoyed getting to clean out most of the junk. Since Tim and I moved into the house back in February, I've been afraid to look in that shed. Not that I'm scared of bugs... but in a shed like that, my brain starts to imagine a spider that has grown so big that it eats small cats. That's all I'm saying. So cleaning it out was good. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a minimalist... I don't like to keep junk around that I don't need. That doesn't mean that I don't keep things that have sentimental value... but at the same time, if I have something that I don't use, I either sell it or give it to someone else. Except for my GI Joe collection. Stop hounding me about it. I'm keeping Dialtone. He is awesome.

Anyway. My dad and I were able to flip the shed back over onto the foundation and nail it back down. I say that like I did a lot of work, but really I just used one hand and flipped it right over and my dad used a bunch of screws to secure it in place.


The doors are kind of "by name only" because they got so bent that they won't even shut. Oh well. I never locked it anyway. Please don't come steal my lawn mower. Actually, it's my dad's lawn mower that he lets me borrow. So, don't steal my dad's lawn mower. I would hate for Tim to have to cut the grass with a pair of scissors while I sit on the back porch sipping lemonade. Actually, that doesn't sound half bad.

Anyway. There's a fun story about my life. I many more things to share, but that's enough for now. I can hear the box of Cheerios calling me from the kitchen...

Later,

Joe