My sweet wife has decided I need to clean out my basement because to her it is a mess. First of all, how did the rest of the house become her house and now the basement belongs to me? I always thought they were attached, but I’m finding out in female logic when something needs to be worked on, cleaned up or carried off it changes possession. Sort of like my hunting closet, my driveway and my gutters need to be cleaned, blown off or painted.

Well, I’ve been surveying my basement and cataloging all the precious and priceless treasures and artifacts I have stored in it. This great hall of masculinity contains my four-wheeler, riding lawn mower and tools (that is when I can find them), plus my tree stand and deer cleaning hoist. Where in the world did she ever get the idea I need to get rid of any of these “have-to-have” items? I would never ask her to toss out her scrap booking materials, art supplies or large and extensive picture albums. Trust me, I’m not that crazy because I wouldn’t even hint at doing that.

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