Opinion

I used to have a storage shed ...

My husband, Bryan, has pegboard. And yes, it is highly contagious.

Pegboard, for those of you who are not aware, is big pieces of thick cardboard with little holes in it. It’s kind of the Swiss cheese of wood.

And something about it makes men lose their ever-loving mind.

No man is immune, and there is no cure. An epidemic can start with one man on the block and quickly spreads faster than wildfire. Once one man on the street gets pegboard, the other men have to have it, too.

Men drive by the pegboard house a little slower and sometimes even alter their dog-walking routes, just to get a glimpse.

Pegboard attracts men like a mud puddle attracts pigs.

And, once a man sees a neighbor with pegboard, they have to have it, too.

Let me back up a bit to explain how Bryan got pegboard in the first place.

He is in the Navy, so we live in Jackson Park. In the our area of the neighborhood, we have small storage sheds — note STORAGE SHEDS — under our carport. For several months, our storage shed was a storage shed.

Our lawnmower lived there, as did our son’s old stroller. We had several no-longer-used, but no-time-for-a-yardsale items that were appropriately stored in our said storage shed.

Until ... . Bryan slowly but surely began to comandeer the storage shed.

The first thing he did was take everything out, just to “rearrange,” he said. Then he started tearing the thing apart. I became very suspicious.

So suspicious that I asked what he was doing.

He assured me he was just making the best use of space for his workshop.

Workshop?

Hmmm ... I didn’t remember him ever using that word before. Maybe I just wasn’t paying attention.

But I had noticed something peculiar about his behavior. He began using the words “Home Depot” and “Lowes” a lot. On one trip I accompanied him to one of those evil places and I swear one of the cashiers called Bryan by name. Before he gave them the check card.

Hmmm ... .

Slowly but surely, the storage shed became his workshop. New, thicker shelves were installed to hold his recent purchases. And there were many recent purchases, all of which took up a lot of space and had to be plugged in.

I also noticed there was no longer room for the stuff that was stored in what used to be my storage shed.

As I write this, our homeless lawnmower is camped out in our backyard, which is where it has been for a few weeks now.

But not to worry, because all the power tools are now nice and cozy in their new home, Bryan’s new workshop.

Then, this weekend, it happened. The point of no return. The pegboard.

One of Bryan’s friends from work gave him the pegboard because it wasn’t being used. And every man knows that wasting pegboard is a carnal sin.

So, Bryan headed back out to his workshop and put the pegboard up on the wall. He had installed pegs and put hanging tools on the pegs. It was all neat and tidy.

That was funny to me, because Bryan — no offense, Honey — can’t remember to put his socks in the laundry hamper but his workshop was nice and tidy. Just for the record, I don’t put my socks in the hamper, either.

As soon as Bryan was finished installing the pegboard, the pegs and the tools, he insisted that I look at it at the next available opportunity.

As soon as our son was safely tucked in for the night, there I was, looking at pegboard in what used to be my storage shed.

“I have pegboard,” Bryan said, many, many times.

“I used to have a storage shed,” I told him right back.

For the rest of the night, all Bryan could say was “I have pegboard.”

“What,” I asked, “is the big deal about pegboard?”

No response. Just a look.

It must be a guy thing.

Celeste Cornish is the editor of the Bremerton Patriot.

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