There is a table saw in my room.

I just moved into a new place. My sister calls it my own personal apartment. My mom calls it the room off of the garage. I call it the wood shed. In reality, it’s a little bit of all three things. It’s a wood shop attached to my sister’s garage that is supposedly going to be my own room for the next four months. Cool, right? It would be only it’s a wood shop so there is a bunch of loose wood on one wall, weird cabinets and counters on the other side and a table saw smack dab in the middle of the counter space. This would be great if I were a true craftsman or wanted to date a rustic craftsman or didn’t mind having sawdust on my bedroom floor. But I do so it’s a little bit weird.

When I moved most of my stuff into my new room, I asked my brother-in-law if he had an old t-shirt to cover the table saw. He said that he did but he didn’t give it to me right away. As I continued to putz around in my new room, I started to like this strange table saw. It’s a total hazard, especially since I stuck my wine rack next to it. Note to self: do not attempt to use the table saw when drinking any of the wine from your wine rack.

I think this new room will be one of those great stories for future family events. “Hey, remember when I lived in the wood shed and I kept having nightmares about the giant mice?” Steen will laugh. Shelli will cry. And Spencer and Jayden will recall those amazing movie nights or craft nights we had in my room. Yeah. It’s going to be a fun four-month adventure with my table saw.


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