A Bloke and his shed

"Why don’t we clean out the shed?” I said hopefully. “We could get a skip.”
“But I’m using that stuff,” Bloke said, offended.
“What, for a CSIRO-sponsored redback spider breeding program?”
“Ha bloody ha. Ha!”

We opened the roller door on Saturday and I found I was wrong. The shed could still be used as one of the sets for Arachnophobia VIII: Weekend at Incy Wincy’s, but it wasn’t full of redbacks. (I should have known – the redbacks are under the front window sill. They're freaky white ones that I have to nuke every couple of months to keep them from forming a right-wing government.) It was actually in the possession of a gang of giant daddy longlegs with an attitude problem that made the Khmer Rouge look like the Smurfs.

The spiders are a symptom rather than the problem. The real problem is that Bloke is a bit of a hoarder. You know, the way Charles Manson is a bit unstable.

I know that many a lad falls under the species blokus Australis packrattus. My dad could hoard with the best of them. It took mum years to clean out his shed after he died. It was full of odd-shaped pieces of wood, spanners that were measured in inches and Vegemite jars full of rusting tacks. Number One Brother is a hoarder too. He’s been packratting one and a half Lightburn Zetas for a good 25 years now. Hell, even chicks have packrattus genes. I’ve got more than a few myself. Books are a constant problem and one of my desk drawers is crammed full of old birthday and Christmas cards. Yes, I know – redcap, meet Planet Ark.

When we moved into this house, the shed was empty but for spider webs, ivy and a huge collection of tomato stakes. Then we started renovating and piles of rubble, old pipes, wiring and dunnies sprouted in the front and backyards. Little bits and pieces from those piles began to be spirited into the shed “for future reference”. That was nine or ten years ago now, but I’m fairly sure some of those random bits of Steptoeness are still in the shed. It’s just lucky that I accidentally broke the old dunny with a sledge hammer, or I'm sure that would still be there too, being used to store kindling or something.

Naturally, I’m not blameless in the creation of the bomb zone that is our shed. I’ve been known to use it as a handy staging point between house and tip and then forget to take the final step because out of sight is, well, in the shed. (Note to self: call council for hard rubbish collection for old mattress. Seven months in the shed ain’t making it any sweeter.)

And sometimes, just sometimes, the things in the shed do come in handy. Bloke claims that most of the materials he used to build the biltong box were already in the shed. Well, except for the latch, the hinges, the fine fly wire, the sealing foam for the lid, the black tape to seal the edges, the flat bits of wood, the glue, the hooks and the small nails. But everything else was in the shed.

There are also the times that I’ve said, “Ohbuggerit, I need a whatsits!” only to have Bloke appear five minutes later with a whatsits. This is great, but does have its problems.

(a) He’s had to take a cricket bat with him to persuade the spiders to give up possession;
(b) The whatsits is covered in dust, spidershite and unidentifiable crud; and
(c) I have to endure smug little “See, I told you my shed was useful!” noises for the rest of the afternoon.

I know the shed is never going to be free of either packrattings or spiders. I know that. It’s like trying to hold back the tide. But I can’t help thinking that the time spent on sifting through a shoebox that contains 14 types of nails, clouts, tacks, bolts and screws (but not the sort you want, and that's if you can even find the bloody shoebox), might be better spent on a quick trip to Bunnings. Sure, it means you have to spend $2 on a new packet of picture hangers and while you’re there you’ll see enough builders’ crack to trauamtise an entire Gay Mardi Gras, but look on the bright side. They have a sausage sizzle where you can get lips, ears and arseholes all in one handy package WITH fried onions and barbecue sauce. You can even have mustard if you want it.

Sold.