When most people think about organizing a room, it might sound like a project, but it’s one that can be done in a step-by-step process. For women, it usually involves rooms wherein they know what most of the items are AND they can lift most of those items without thinking too hard about it. Also, decisions about tossing things doesn’t really matter to anyone else. The kitchen? No problem. The sewing room. Almost fun. The garage? None of the above.
If a garage re-org is kicked off with a termite extermination (which I describe in this article), it makes it even more chaotic. Typically, you find out there are termites and want to treat asap, so must move fast to accommodate the treatment methods. This means quickly piling everything in the middle of the garage, so that the exterminator can drill into the cement every foot around the perimeter. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on which end of the project I am dealing with, I had help with the piling. My strapping adult sons helped move all manner of things out of corners that hadn’t been exposed for years. They did manage to take some things out to other locations, but what was left was daunting.
I’m not sure how it was that all of this was moved for the exterminator, but yet when it was over there was virtually no way to move around in the garage. Even being able to levitate would have hardly made a difference. For a few weeks, I would avert my eyes when I had to pass through. Finally, I came to grips with the fact that I was going to have to do it. The husband, mighty as he is, would not be able to do much with one arm in a sling.
Part of my psychosis when it’s comes to cleaning the garage is that it means using the shop vac. It is a monster that knows my weaknesses. It taunts me by pretending cooperation, then spews dust at me or lifts pieces of dirt laden garage carpet to slap me in the lungs with debris. It is a horrible creature. Of course, it never shows this side of it’s personality when my husband or the kids are using it. THEY think I’m making it all up. hmpf.
Then, there is coming across creatures that I didn’t know existed, which I was happier not knowing about. There are different alien species that live in the garage. They have cloaking powers, but leave behind foul smelling substances. I suppose dealing with those specters and their guardians (spiders that somehow escaped the swamp where extra large insects grow), made it a little easier to deal with the partially shattered ancient deer skull that had landed on the floor in front of the refrigerator. Have I ever said I wanted to be a pioneer woman? I don’t think so.
I got help moving the old dryer and freezer. Do you know what sound a dryer makes as it rubs along the cement? We couldn’t move it 2 inches at a time, because the sound MADE me do a little dance and chant. I tried to control myself. If I ever get taken for torture, don’t let them subject me to this noise while tied down and gagged. My mind will unravel.
I have carefully put away my husband’s multiple containers of rocks. He loves rocks. Rocks are heavy. I haven’t yet figured out how to stash the generator. Well, maybe I have given up thinking about it for a while. Generators are heavy, too. Then, there are the boxes of special, someday useful nails. These are not small boxes. I’m sure they don’t sell this size of box of nails to women. They don’t say it’s because they are women, because that’s illegal. But it’s practical, so I’m behind them on this one.
I understand that a garage is a good theory, but I don’t think it works well in reality. Not my reality, anyway. Maybe if I just go ahead and accept the fact that it is part of an alternate universe, I can venture out and finish organizing it. The land where shop vacs are alive and carpets fly.
