Do you know how many steps are involved in cleaning out the garage? 12,384.
Yesterday, Dad and I decided to tackle the garage. The Puppy decided to supervise by napping in the sun. And the shade. And the sun. And the shade. For someone who was napping, there was a lot of relocation.
Cleaning out the garage was a lot like an archeological dig. We uncovered all sorts of things from different eras of our lives.
For example, we found soccer balls in every single size (and condition) imaginable. We found pint-sized golf clubs and middle-sized lacrosse sticks and teen-sized hockey sticks. We found gardening tools for toddlers and baseball mitts for adults.
We had a few disagreements (“No, we are not getting rid of that” “But we haven’t used it in 20 years!” “But I might have a need for it!” I’ll leave it to you to assign the dialog). We had a few compromises (Dad has agreed to get rid of—by which I mean recycle—the two tires that have been hanging around lo these many years. And we had some surprises.
Like the, um, cache we found behind the shelves.
Me: What is that?
Dad: What do you think it is?
Me: Lord love a duck.
It turned out to be a pile of acorns, presumably put there by a rodent of some variety. The Puppy had been very clear all winter that there was something interesting back there, and smirked his “I told you so” look as we swept out the corner.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say the garage is clean enough to eat in (except for the acorn-hoarders among us) but it is much nicer and less cluttered than it was.
I give us 2 months before the chaos re-descends.