The Basement as Archeological Dig

It’s prime time for tackling my work in progress (it’s rainy, gray, depressing and Sunday — a perfect storm for writers) but instead I opt for another task, one decidedly odious and one that oddly confirms my status as World Class Procrastinator.

I started to clean the basement.

I’m not talking about the humanoid side of the basement where the TV, workout equipment and washer and dryer are located. That part of the basement is carpeted, couched and always tidy, now that I have an absence of teenagers. I’m talking the unknown area just beyond the doors of civilization. We’re talking dreaded Furnace Room and beyond that, the Old Coal Room.

It’s easy to discount these two areas. First of all, there is a door between them. Most of the year, I don’t even have to think about that part of the house, much less occupy it. The Furnace Room is fairly neat, even though it’s the repository for Christmas trees, excess kitchen gadgets and luggage. The Old Coal Room, now, that’s a different animal. There’s a safe in there and boxes upon boxes of “stuff” from when we moved here in 2004. We deposited our junk boxes there and it’s been nagging at me ever since.

Besides being a busy woman, I’m also lazy and am not fond of centipedes, so putting off cleaning the basement has been a painlessly easy achievement. However, I now find myself needing a workspace for pounding and soldering. I’ve been taking jewelry classes and working with flames should not be done in a bedroom, especially one featuring highly combustible drapes and bedding. (Hint to those who give a damn: an acetylene torch would be a very appreciated Christmas gift this year.) The pounding has also taken a toll on my dining room table, which shouldn’t matter much since no one eats on the table anyway. But someday we might want to, and those gouges aren’t getting any smaller.

I need a place to anchor my vise. I would also like to place my pickle pot (a Crockpot full of chemical agent) in an area where my spouse won’t think it’s dinner and mistakenly drink from it.

The only decent area is just inside the Furnace Room. The walls are brick and the floor is cement, thus minimizing potential fire risk. Water is nearby, and my tumbler is already in the basement. It won’t be pretty, but who needs pretty when you’re forging a piece of copper?

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Article Author: Joanne Huspek

I'm an aspiring novelist with a day job which makes writing an interesting clandestine tryst. Currently a member of Romance Writers of America and the Greater Detroit Romance Writers of America. My web site (www.joannehuspek.com) is currently in limbo, …

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