Zen and my shed

I have a girl shed and I’m not afraid to use it.

The little bundle of joy was brought into my world as a heap of panels wrapped in plastic.

A bucketful of rivets later, it had blossomed into a fine figure of a shed. The icing on the cake: it matched the colour of my house perfectly — it’s a girl thing. 

Who would have thought four walls and a roof could enhance not only your backyard, but your life? But, for me at least, it has.

Plenty has been written about blokes who regard their sheds as temples for Secret Men’s Business. In these havens males can tinker, drink home brew, get away from the kids/the “ball and chain” and think about, well, nothing much.

I did a quick stocktake of my female friends and not one of them has a girl shed. So why is it that I have yearned for one since I bought my first house about 15 years ago?

 I guess my love of sheds is genetic, inherited from my father who is a notorious hoarder (he prefers ‘‘collector’’) of all manner of stuff that he swears will one day either come in handy, be needed by a mate or realise $1million at auction. As far as I know, the family of mummified rats he found in the Great Shed Clean-Up of 1998 haven’t attracted the attention of Christie’s yet, but the old man lives in hope. He’s marketing them under ‘‘antiquities’’.

Besides my dad’s pride and joy, the sheds I knew and loved as a child were inhabited by my granddads and uncles. These man caves had a few things in common: the smell of grease, a damaged roller blind on the window, a bench displaying the ‘‘work in progress’’ (usually a car part), a bottle or can collection and a dodgy transistor radio that seemed to only pick up Dad Rock AM.

As a happy little single, I have no need to escape anyone in the big house, but a certain peace descends upon me when I enter the girl shed. Maybe it comes from a sense of purpose.  If I’m standing at my shed’s threshold I have work to do, tools to collect, stuff to find, world domination to plan.

At one stage, my parents owned a hardware store and I happily worked there at weekends. It was here I learned that hardware knowledge was power. I  made it my business to acquaint myself with screw threads, gauges and the intricacies of plumbing paraphernalia after a few tradies sniggered at when I nervously asked if they needed help with screws. Like a scene from Carry On Hardware, my response was to yell out across a crowded shop to my father:  ‘‘Jimbo, these confused blokes need help finding a screw’’. 

 I have no mummified rodents in my girl shed, but I do have an impressive collection of jars filled with screws, nails, nuts, bolts, wall plugs and other top stuff. They are lined up like weird museum specimens and elicit the appropriate level of interest/awe from male shed visitors. Some even pick up the jars for a closer look, turning them carefully before eventually nodding knowingly and restoring them, reverentially, to their spot.
Female visitors are mostly impressed by my collection of hooks on which hang power cords and ropes. The hooks are sturdy enough, but not exactly industrial grade as they are decorated with flowers. Consequently, they lose a bit of cred with traditional ‘Sheddies’.

I’m most proud of three galvanised shelves. They belonged to a former boyfriend who forgot to take them when we parted. They fit one wall perfectly.  I guess the shelves, unlike the ex, were always meant to be mine. That said, every time I look at them I mentally give my old mate the two-fingered salute.

As I was sorting through my hardware in the former ‘‘shed’’ — an old cupboard under the house – I discovered about six Allen keys. I’m going to come clean and admit I have no idea what they are used for, despite my extensive hardware store experience.

Regardless, these shiny specimens have their own jar as the penny might drop some day and I’ll start Allen key-ing all those things that need Allen key-ing. I could ask someone, or Google it, but that would spoil the mystery. 
Yes, my girl shed is almost complete. The only things missing are my gratuitous Hottest Tradies and Sizzling Firemen calendars.

I don’t care if they are a few years out of date, it will give the shed the right vibe ... 

It’s a girl thing.