A couple of weeks ago I got home from the office after a particularly stressful day amid a particularly stressful week/month/year. The weather was nice so I decided I would winterize my home.

I say "winterize" because that's a word I've heard other grownups use. I have no idea what it actually means or what one is supposed to do to complete the task. All I know is that each fall I wander my yard pretending to do stuff while The Perfects are outside in hopes that they'll call some instructions over to me.

On this particular evening, I decided I would go ahead and turn off the water to my sprinklers and do some other sprinkler-related stuff my brother-in-law told me to do once. He didn't explain why any of these particular actions were important. I think this is so he can maintain all the power in the family. It's a job security issue.

Naturally turning off the sprinkler water led to cleaning my entire garage and replacing 12 light bulbs before determining that the light fixtures themselves were the problem.

Amid the if-you-give-a-mouse-a-cookie cleaning spree, I uncovered an old cabinet door.

From time to time I find freaky ghetto old stuff in my house that I swear was not there when I bought the place two years ago. For example, a few months ago I found this box in my house:

I don't know what it is or how it suddenly appeared but I'm convinced it's 1,200 years old and is probably possessed by the evil spirits of the great mountain west. Also, I plan to take it to the Antiques Roadshow next year. I already have my outdated sweater picked out.

I'm pretty sure Satan will eat me if I try to destroy any of these uncovered items, so usually when I find them I just repurpose them and incorporate them into my home's decor.

So that's what I decided to do with the cabinet door. I took it inside, cleaned it up, and then texted a picture of it to Matt, demanding instruction on what to do with this thing.

Matt was extremely unhelpful in my moment of need, telling me that he had his own crisis to deal with. Some new problem at Broome Bungalow that sounded like something I didn't wanted to get involved in, so I pretended not to understand his southern accent and hung up on him, which is a tactic that probably doesn't have much of a shelf life left.

So then I stood there in my kitchen, tired and stressed out from work, and completely without help from creative people. And I said to myself I said "Eli, you are a competent human being. Your hair is amazing. You can say the ABCs backwards. And you are capable of being Pinterest without no help from nobody."

I basically channeled my inner Tami.

And so that's what I did. I drove myself to Home Depot. I spent an absurd amount of time walking up and down the aisles. I found basically what I needed. I drove myself home. I used power tools. And after 1 hour and 23 minutes, I had created this:

And you know what, I hang my coats aaaaaaaallll over that thing.

So next time you need a really manly man who uses power tools to make your house look like Pinterest, come find me.

Also, I would just like to give a shoutout to hoarding. Usually when I buy some new thing that I have to put together I end up with 20 unused pieces because hashtag bad at following directions. I'm afraid of throwing these things away so I have an entire drawer in my house full of screws and odds and ends that belong to various projects. Well, as it turned out, the screws that came with the hardware I purchased for this project were too long so I dug out the exact right number of the exact right screws from the hoarder drawer and all I'm saying is NEVER THROW ANYTHING AWAY NO MATTER WHAT.

Also, please enjoy this week's Strangerville Short, featuring some stories about couchsurfing:

~It Just Gets Stranger