Ugh.
I'm sorry that I have little to report today, because yesterday's task filled me with shame and disgust and took a lot out of me.
I cleaned out my garage.
For some men -- car guys whose garage is a professional-level workshop; Felix Ungers whose garage is pin-neat and organized; people in old houses whose garage is single, detached, wide enough for a 1930 Studebaker and never used and possibly haunted -- the task never comes up. For others -- folks with eight kids who store old toys in there but never the car; Oscar Madisons who turn any space into a junkyard; refugees from Hoarding: Buried Alive -- cleaning the garage is an impossible task and thus never done. I fall somewhere in the middle, but alas, closer to the Oscar Madisons. The one saving grace I have is that we do use the garage for cars, so there's a limiting factor to the disaster.
That said, the job filled me with shame. I couldn't believe I had let it go that bad. I couldn't believe how many things I found dupes of -- bottles of deer repellent, for example -- because I lost the first one in the mess and assumed I was out. And now I can't believe how much the garbage men are going to hate me for this. Three heavy lawn bags of toxic waste. I hope the truck doesn't blow up.
I used to keep the garage pretty neat, or relatively so, when we first moved in and I had some house pride. At least once a year I would clean it out and sweep it out and even hose it out. Those days ended about ten years ago, and I can't even say for sure why. I wasn't working more hours. We hadn't gotten the dogs yet. I'd ask Younger Me but he has nothing but excuses.
Anyway, I was impelled to do the job because this week the guys are coming to install the fenceless fence for the dogs, which requires an electrical hookup. I asked the lady who called to confirm where it will connect, and she said it depended on the property; could be the garage or the cellar, for example.
Uh-oh.
So I figured I'd better clear out the garage and straighten it up before someone dies in there. It was a warm, rainy day yesterday, which made the job even less pleasant. But I'm alive.
I'm glad the job is done. Today, of course, I have to tackle the other part: The cellar.
Ugh.
3 comments:
Covered storage space (aka, garage) is too valuable to waste on stuff that is weatherproof (aka, most cars).
I used to clean out the garage every year, but found that any space I opened up just made room for more stuff.
I think most of my neighbors would agree with you, Raf, but I will say I'm glad not to have to scrape ice off the car in the winter when I want to go somewhere. If I lived in a southern state I might be less inclined to park indoors.
That's the kind of work that can be really satisfying, once it's done. Not so much while doing it.
My dad was a bit of a pack rat, I gather growing up during the Great Depression will do that to a person. FWIW he also had a PhD in Physics from MIT so no slouch in the brains department.
When he was in his late 80's, my sisters decided to clean out the basement storage room. It was piled with old coffee cans filled with rusty screws and bolts and tools, odd scraps of wood, empty bottles, broken small appliances, pretty much what most people would call junk.
He got really upset at them, told them to knock it off and not to mess with his "mementos". They thought he was kidding them, but he was really serious about it.
I think about that every time I get rid of a bunch of "stuff". Things that no longer bring me joy. It can be difficult ("gee, this stained, 4"-wide psychedelic-colored necktie from 1974 could be useful one day, if ... ") but the pain of separation is fleeting and the peace of mind that comes from being clutter-free is lasting.
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