A Tale of Two Garages

“Two car garage, five bedrooms”. Sounds a pretty impressive description if we decide to sell the house, doesn’t it? I have already told the full story of the five bedrooms, bedroom number five being frigid in winter, a furnace in summer. Not exactly truth in advertising.

Let’s move on to the garages. When we bought the house, there were indeed two garages, an unnecessary luxury for us since we only had one car. To get into the garage we had to drive down the driveway, unlatch a gate and maneuver through (and, during the years we had Murray, first tie up a walk-craving dog), latch the gate and make our way gingerly into the garage, avoiding a sturdy metal basketball post. So even one garage didn’t get much use.

Somehow I didn’t pay much attention—I was working at the time—when my husband said he was getting his trustworthy Grazio Brothers “to brick over the large area of driveway in front of the garages and had contracted with Eddie to brick up one of the garages to make a workroom.” Well, many thousands of dollars later he had his workroom, which, of course needed a door. And a heater. And a table saw. As the years went by, thanks to the children, the room acquired a television and a refrigerator, and became a man-cave.

As for the  other garage—needless to say it became the repository for all our garden equipment, bikes and general junk. No way a car could get in, especially since there is a large bench on one side which I laughingly call my potting bench. This side looks a little smarter this year since we have a new door which I can once again open with an electronic switch. When my children were younger, they did their best to “decorate” the walls.

Here we have the German poet’s wall (in translation):

Here the English poet's wall:

Here the pets' and siblings' wall:

A lot of memories in what started out as a "2-car garage."