Alison and I tore into the garage yesterday.
All in preparation for one of my almost annual garage sales. I have whittled away piece by piece and have so little left. I often wonder if this is my subconscious working on me to make a decision about where life is headed.
Well Deb, looks like you have one chair, a bed and a few odd side tables. Seems as if you have two choices- move out and on and get yourself some stuff, or; STFU, admit you will be here until you die, update this house out of it’s early 1990’s style and then get a job to pay off the costs.
I don’t really need a little voice to give me these choices. I know I clearly have but two routes, and I am no closer to a decision now than I was when I admitted to needing to make a decision a few months ago. I sort of feel like if I have to keep asking myself
“Self, just how miserable are you?”
and because I keep asking then I must have some degree of miserable left to achieve and I don’t have to make a final, FINAL decision quite yet.
Anyway, the spouse was out all day so it was a perfect time to tackle the workbench area. I now have a neat pile of varied items to slap price stickers on, another bunch of items that are destined to be sold as well but must remain in place for now as moving them would be obvious and attract unwanted attention that I had actually been in the garage, a very small and organized section of ‘things we actually use and still need,’ and about five boxes of old hazardous household waste that is going to the landfill site to be disposed of in the proper manner on Thursday.
Alison kindly crawled under and around and pulled each item out from its dirt and spider-web encrusted home and I quickly directed each item into it’s appropriate pile: garbage, sell, keep, HHW (household hazardous waste) and the ‘moving on with Alison when she leaves’ pile.
She claimed some items that will come in handy when she needs to change the oil on her car. I never knew that we had three of those clamp things you use to help you remove your oil filter. She also claimed a nice cordless drill that hasn’t seen the light of day since we inherited it long before she was even born. It literally seems to be in mint condition having been stored inside it’s original case. So as long as the battery will charge up she has gotten a gem with that find. By the way, that drill was one of four we apparently own. One had a cord so frayed it was a fire hazard. One was the size of a KitchenAid mixer body, and the final one (which I kept for now) is rusty around it’s head but I think it will work if needed.
Need is the operative word with most of the items we hauled out. The spouse does not do projects and will not (I feel quite certain about this) begin to take up doing projects in the future. Needed work in, on, or around this house will be hired work. I would do the work, but physically that’s out of the question anymore. I’m not sure, but do you think four drills is a bit of overkill if no one is doing work?
We also uncovered two full gallon bottles of antifreeze, two partially full bottles of antifreeze and a half-full bottle of windshield washer fluid. I can claim ownership of the washer fluid, but four various bottles of antifreeze…who was expecting severe weather conditions so horrendous that we needed to build up a lifelong supply of antifreeze for our cars.
I could take you all item by item through our adventure, but I won’t. Let’s leave it with the knowledge that soon enough I will have conquered twenty-two years of accumulated crap.
I do have to mention the nails though. So. Many. Nails. Also so many screws. The top of our workbench, had it ever been organized, could have easily passed for the nail and screw aisle in a Lowe’s store. Again, most of this came by way of inheritance, because why would you ever say no thank you to ten rusty coffee cans of mixed nails and 6 inch spikes, or plastic bins that contain at least one of every screw ever made. Alison is slightly OCD when it comes to order. This particular area of the workbench was literally causing her anxiety and she very bravely, and rather excitedly, volunteered to organize can after can and drawer after drawer of fasteners. I simplified it quite easily by keeping the nails that I might have need of for things like picture hanging, and the rest…let’s just say they are anxiously waiting to be secretly disposed of. I may actually put a free sign on the cans at the garage sale (because free signs draw in the crowds) and let some handy-person take them away.
Addendum: I rethought the screw organization plan since saying no yesterday. I know that it would bring Alison joy to organize each of those little drawers, so maybe, while her dad is out again today, I’ll give her the thrill of that job. I bet we could get 40 bins down to 10 or less in no time and add to the free pile as well.