June 29, 2007

Happiness is a Clean Garage

Writers love this quote: "I enjoy having written." It expresses the unsurpassed joy of having once again crafted a coherent paragraph, filled a blank page, and made a deadline. Actually writing? Not as much fun.

Personally, I enjoy having cleaned. Keeper and I are basking in the glory of our tidy garage after spending six years dreading the job and one afternoon actually doing it.

Now, we did a lot of purging when we moved out here nine years ago. And like a lot of people who are addicted to shows like "Mission: Organization" I know the rule-nothing comes into the house unless something else goes out. With each new house, I renew my commitment to the "less is more" principle and eventually fall prey to my childhood indoctrination. My mother's mantra was "If it has any use left in it, don't throw it out." This served her well during her own childhood in the Great Depression. In the 1930s it may have made sense to darn socks and save a tablespoon of leftover mashed potatoes, but today those habits lead to clutter or guilt, take your pick.

We finally tackled the garage out of necessity. No longer just an aesthetic problem, the garage had become a danger zone. In order to put a load of laundry into our front-loading washer, I had to climb over the carpet shampooer and feed the clothes through a washer door that would only open halfway due to a pile of cardboard boxes that I intended to cut up for recycling just as soon as I had time.

On a Wednesday, we made the commitment to clean the garage on Saturday. On Saturday, we slept late and by the time we were fortified with coffee and Rice Krispies, I was out of the mood. "We can always do it tomorrow," I said to Keeper.

"No, let's get it over with," said Keeper, whose penchant for discipline balances out my tendency for sloth.

We donned our work gloves, and armed with heavy-duty trash bags and a sturdy broom, stepped into the void.

We quickly established three towering piles in the driveway: Keep, Toss, and Recycle. Bargain shoppers will notice that I did not mention "sell." The belief that I would someday hold a garage sale or make a killing on e-Bay died with the realization that the junk I had been hoarding for just that possibility was now so old and decrepit that even St. Vincent de Paul would turn up his nose at it.

I will take the blame for some of the clutter. However, the fact that we found 4 hammers and 13 paint rollers I rests squarely on Keeper's inability to spend 3 minutes looking for something he needs and instead, spending 40 minutes driving to Home Depot to buy another one.

We labored on, sorting, bagging, and piling. Four hours and one trip to the San Carlos Transfer Station later, we had a passably tidy garage with safe access to the laundry equipment. The gardening stuff was in one place. The painting equipment was together. The tools, including the duplicate hammers, were organized into a toolbox.

More importantly, we had some new rules to live by.

1. Throwing away old junk is not a sin.
2. Recycling is a task best done weekly.
3. Keeper is not allowed to go to Home Depot by himself.