We're moving back to D.C. this weekend. My job has, so far, been packing up the basement. This particular job is a significant challenge. The dreams I had for this empty cement canvas are all coming back to me now as I uncover it's cold bare concrete floors. I planned a theater room here, bathroom there, and an airhocky table over there. Over the past several years, I've completely covered those dreams with boxes, toys, newspapers to be recycled, the list goes on... Now, as I pack everything up, uncovering that bare concrete, I remember all the things I hoped to do. I was only able to finish my office.
Basements are a male oddity I reckon. I mean, my wife for example, barely cares to set foot in a basement. I see a basement and the one ounce of creative blood starts flowing through my body - wow, this could be a(n).... I'm not sure what makes a basement a uniquely male facination but it sure seems to be. My wife sees cold concrete floors and walls... I see... potential.
I'm gonna miss this basement...
