Resembling a laser-focused aircraft marshal on a busy tarmac, I know my ears will be protected by the sound.  The nail gun is heavy in my hands, and it certainly takes both of them to hold firm as I tentatively climb the ladder.  We’re putting up storage shelves in the southeast corner of the basement, a long-awaited first step in finally, finally providing some semblance of order to the disorganized mess in the foundational underpinning of our home that’s been neglected for far too long.

To be sure, husband is doing most of the work—measuring room dimensions, researching materials and tools, installing outlets, running wires, picking through the meager selection of straight-as-an-arrow two by fours in the racks at Menards, loading (and unloading) the lumber and shelving, all those weighty pieces of bracketing—indeed, all of the heavy lifting.  My home-enhancing contributions tend toward providing assistance whenever Bill needs a second pair of hands but mostly, I’m our home’s interior designer.  Bill does the grunt work.  I just make it all look pretty.  Or presentable, at least.  Homey and cozy and welcoming, that’s always what I’m aiming for.

But today, I’ll make my own mark—literally.  My five-foot-one frame will absorb the kickback.  Warily, I’ll stand within inches of that impossible-to-anticipate deafening crack, the pum of compressed-air as the nail explodes from the chamber and embeds itself into the stud.  Once the deed is done, when my body is no longer reverberating from the impact, I’ll circle the nail head with a red Sharpie marker, date and initial it.  A talisman for future home dwellers, proof of my physical contribution to the accoutrements of our new and improved storage space.

****************************************************************************

We purchased our house, a three-bedroom ranch, in 2005.  It was—and remains—our dream house.  Situated along the fourth fairway of The Legacy golf course, it has a spectacular view of the second hole and adjacent pond, nice woodwork throughout, a modern kitchen and is nicely landscaped.  The basement, however, was unfinished.  Oh, but did we have plans for rectifying that situation!  Enthusiastic brain dumps on how we might best use the space and a multitude of ideas for floor plans morphed into one configuration after another time and again over the first several years.

Other pursuits, however, soon consumed our time, our energies and our resources until now, nearly fifteen years since I drove a nail into that two by four.  My husband and I are both retired and, like many Americans, covid quickly and thoroughly put the kibosh on any immediate plans to travel overseas or even throughout the United States.  We still talk about ‘maybe someday’ but I think we both know the deeper truth.  We don’t have any compelling need or desire to finish off the basement.  Currently, it serves to provide a number of satisfactory purposes. 

The exercise space houses an elliptical and my husband’s old Nordic Track, both strategically placed in view of a big screen TV.  Bill has a work space for his computer, with two large monitors.  There are several book cases and a place for him to play his guitars.  There’s the aforementioned storage room, with shelving running floor to ceiling that spans the length of the room.  A section of the basement is my sewing room.  I have a large daylight window overlooking my work space and shelving for all the fabric I’ve accumulated in the three short years since I began quilting.   

We have what we need and then some.  It works for us and no regrets.  Entertaining has never been high on our priority list and besides, how many times would we really make use of a pool table or the shuffleboard table we thought we’d love to have?  No.  A finished basement just isn’t something we spend much time thinking about anymore.  We, however, made an alternate decision and started to look outside ourselves.  I mean, really outside….

Instead of finishing the basement—fireplace, wet bar, billiards table, huge screen TV, exercise room—all those amazing features we once drooled over—we’ve directed our salivary glands to contemplate the new boat we’re getting this spring.  Certainly, fresh air and sunshine have to be healthier for the body—and the soul—than the dim confines of a basement, no matter how lavishly appointed!

More importantly, we’ve come to realize we enjoy our own company and what better way than out on the water, just my husband, our puppy and me.