I'm Back

I had an interesting week. Mr. Clean (aka Uncle Dick) called me a couple days ago. He wanted to know if I had his weed killer bottle at my house. See, his twin (aka my dad) had borrowed it months ago and never returned it. Uncle Dick wanted to know if maybe my dad brought it over here to kill my weeds. First, I was surprised to even hear my dad cared enough to kill any weeds, whether at my house or his. Second, I was sure I didn't have his weed killer bottle here. I offered Uncle Dick my bottle of weed killer I just bought at Home Depot, but he didn't want that one. He wanted his fancy bottle, that attaches to the end of the hose. He said he searched my parents garage and didn't find it anywhere. The thought of my poor, spotless Uncle Dick rummaging around in my parents borderline hoarder-house looking garage scared me. Don't get me wrong, my parents garage is not that messy to the normal viewer. But when you are there to transform the garage from the winter garage to the summer garage, you see the mounds of junk my dad hoards. He is really good at hiding it. He hides his junk in these leftover cupboards he hung on the wall from our old kitchen. I made the mistake of opening the cupboard door while helping my dad clean the garage, and I swear I saw something slither away. The stuff in the cupboard included old broken hose nozzles, chipped planters still filled with dry dirt, oil cans, wires, old fishing reels, car washing soap and wax from 1982...etc. I begged my dad to let me throw some of this stuff out. I have never seen my dad wash a car ever in my life, but still, he wouldn't let me throw it out. I picked up a lone lid, to whatever, my dad didn't know, but he insisted on keeping it. Then he has this metal shelving unit stuffed with junk. He hung an old ratty curtain over it to hide his hoarding treasures. On these shelves I found this hangy thing made out of sea shells, it once hung in our house, it was ugly then and it is even uglier now that its been in the garage for years collecting dirt and dust. There was also this stuffed flower with a smiley face, it's gross, probably has gnats living in it, do you think he would let me throw that thing out....nope. He said and I quote, "When you bury me, you can throw out anything you want." Which, worked because then I felt guilty. I just know someday I will have that ugly, bug infested stuffed flower hanging in my house because of my dad. I will make Gina take the ugly seashell hangy thing.
Back to poor Uncle Dick, he was telling me how he can't believe my dad would lose this bottle, and he said he was going to make my dad buy him a new one. I was thinking, wow this thing has to be really expensive, it attaches to a hose and everything. I was ready to call Cheryl, she's our "Bank of America" when we have to buy expensive things in an emergency. Then Uncle Dick says, "That's right for once I am going to make him replace what he lost and that bottle was $19.00!" Guess I won't be needing Cheryl.

After hanging up with Uncle Dick, I called Minnesota where my parents are spending the summer. My mom answered. I told her the story about dad losing Uncle Dick's weed killer bottle. Mom started "Lori...let me tell you about your father, he's an asshole, ok? Since we have been here at Cheryls, whats it been a month? He has lost two fishing poles and a pair of Cheryl's sunglasses. Yesterday he came home from fishing and told me his prescription glasses fell into the lake, but the string was still around his neck, so I asked him, how the hell did they come off if you still have the string around your neck? Your father said they just slipped out of the string. So now we have to pay 187.00 to get new ones, but your father doesn't want to pay"....this is where I begin to tune her out, she goes on and on and on...finally I interrupt her and say "Do you realize you have been talking non-stop for 7 minutes, I haven't said a word in 7 minutes!!!!" "Can you please ask Dad if he knows where Uncle Dick's weed killer bottle went" Mom answers in one word "Fine"
When my dad got home from fishing my mom relayed the story to him, (probably a much longer version). Dad called Uncle Dick and told him he left the bottle in either his garage or my Uncle Dicks garage. BIG HELP!

Uncle Dick's garage is spotless, if the bottle was in his garage he would definitely know. So poor Uncle Dick headed back to the hoarders garage and you will be very relieved to hear Uncle Dick finally did find his weed killer bottle in my dad's garage in another hoarding spot by the front door.

Even though my parents garage is far from spotless, it is the place everyone comes on warm summer nights. Like every Italian family out there, my parents transform their garage into a living room in the summer time, complete with custom made screens, mom's old furniture set and rugs. I use the word "rugs" loosely, it's more like remnants. Used remnants that have been torn from rooms my dad tiled. He also took my old oval kitchen rug which lays on top of the remnants. They have a few old welcome mats thrown around on top of other remnants. I am not sure why? We are all constantly tripping on these little rugs with the curled up edges. THROW THEM OUT!!!! But honestly, the garage is so fun. We all hang there, my Aunt Kay and Uncle Dick come over in their jammies. We talk and laugh. But we can't see anyone because my mom makes us sit with the lights off. My mom is a freak when it comes to mosquitos. God forbid you try to leave. You can barely get out the door without her yelling "CLOSE THE DOOR!! You're letting all the mosquitos in!". Can you feel the love?