Put down the paint roller

Anyone with a red shirt is my family

I'm DIY-ing inside

driving home from work just to go work on your home

Not just ghosts

The hardware store always felt like magical place when I was growing up. While my dad walked around buying whatever home improvement and hardware essentials the house needed, I could roam the sawdust-scented aisles in blissful ignorance. The shining toilets fascinated me, as did the massive refrigerators with two doors and, get this, an ice maker. Fancy appliances like that offered a window into a life that never felt possible for me. Spoiler alert: I still don't have this coveted type of fridg…