I have a bad case of shed head. We have two sheds at my home. One is the back shed. That is the garden shed.
The garden shed contains the trimmer, the mower, and all of the hand tools we use for gardening. There are buckets and watering cans. All of our garden furniture lives there when the snow flies. Every now and then we clean it out. Then it contains space. The space the shed contains is self hating space. It seems to have a desire to eliminate itself.
The front shed? That’s the bike shed. It has bikes. It has surfboards. It has a generator. It contains my axes. It used to contain a snow blower. I gave that back. After that? The shed had some space. This shed is the back shed’s cousin. Self hatred seems to run in the family. The emptiness resented itself. The emptiness was eliminated by the spaces acceptance of a generator.1
The sheds fill up. I empty them out. Then they fill up. I’m not certain what nature hates the most - a vacuum or an empty shed.
Brains are a lot like sheds. It’s …