What Your Garage Says About You

This morning I bit the bullet and decided it was time to clean the garage out and turn it into something more useful than our own personal tip.  This is what greeted me when I rolled the door up;

Want a closer look?  Try this one;

 Now you know why I have a phobia about someone calling Hoarders on us.  But there is a legitimate reason for it, I swear!  The (very abbreviated) story goes like this.  We moved house and we moved house quickly so we could focus on selling our old house.  We shoved a lot of stuff into the garage as a temporary measure intending to deal with it as soon as the other house sold.  But, the very first week we moved, there was an epic rainstorm.  After three years of drought, that first week is when it came bucketing down like Old Faithful in reverse for two days straight. That would not have been a big problem except that the chick we bought the house from left out that the roof of the garage leaked like a sieve.

Everything was in two clear inches of water for a week before we realised what had happened.  And by then the water had crept up the cardboard boxes and eaten into our belongings.  We had to madly sort through and turf everything that was ruined and try to plastic bag or crate anything that wasn't.  Then it had to be stacked up where the water wouldn't get it.  And for the year it took to save the money needed to fix the roof situation (our house was shot too), it all just sat there.  Until last week when the roof got fixed.  Ergo, time to address the garage situation.

So this morning I borrowed a trailer from our obliging fam and we hooked in like champions - working for three hours.  This is what we took to the tip at the end of it;

And this is what was left behind;

We still have a long way to go.  But as I worked, I realised a few things.

1.)  I have got to stop buying liquid nails and gap seal;  Every five minutes I'd find another tube of the stuff.  Clearly I buy for small projects and then realise I already have some viable stuff in my caulking gun, handily sealed with a screw.  My grand total was seven tubes and they're now all in the one place so I don't forget and buy any more.  

2.)  My husband would be a lot richer if he hadn't gone nuts on the miniatures and collectible cards when he got his first job;  When I add up how much he's spent on that stuff I weep.  We'd probably have no mortgage if he'd just popped it into a savings account.

3.)  I am not good at returning things to people;  There are a number of examples I could provide here but the most epic is Julia's mug.  Ten years ago when my sorry excuse for an ex gave me the heave-ho I wound up sharing a lovely little mobile home with a great friend called Jules.  Jules moved in and didn't ever ask for any sort of consideration really except that I add her little orange cow mug to the collection over the sink because it had meaning for her.  Which I happily did.  Then at some point Jules moved out.  But the mug didn't.  

For ten years I've carted this thing around, through three house moves, with every intention of returning it to her even though I still don't know why it has special meaning.  I don't ever let anyone use it and it's always in a 'safe' place.  And now that I've written about it on here and she knows where it is it will somehow be destroyed in the next 48 hours.  This happy little cow has been eating my soul for ten years.  Jules, please give us all the happy ending we deserve and come and get your mug.

4.)  Whatever I'm looking for, it's going to be in my husband's car;  Two weeks ago we went down to visit my Dad.  In his rush to pack Charles took everything out of his car and left it in a pile right inside the garage.  First up, we will not speak of the food debris that was discovered.  Just...yuck.  But this pile was like a domestic gold mine.  All the drink bottles I'd blamed the school/daycare for losing, James' socks, Charlotte's jumpers - the spare DOLLY I really could have used last weekend.  The letter containing his bank card that was replaced six months ago.  I wish he'd left it all in situ I could have called Time Team to examine the different stratas.  

5.)  I need to be tougher with people inheriting our baby stuff;  I don't care whether you people have space, you either take it or it goes on Ebay.  We had a high chair, stroller, cot, cot mattress, crib, four crates of clothing and a baby carrier.  

6.)  The people who owned the place before us were stock piling building supplies for the apocalypse;  I've heard of keeping a spare tile or two in case one cracks but honestly there are only a dozen tiles on our bathroom floor.  So why did they keep another dozen in the garage?  And where did the spare kitchen door come from?  None of our kitchen cabinets is missing a door...  Also?  There was a whole other box of tiles that don't appear anywhere in our house and it's sealed.  What on earth were they for?

7.)  Whoever it is in our family/circle of friends that drinks Carlsberg is a pig;  Seriously there were three empty Carlsberg six pack cartons tossed down around the party fridge.  Granted the garage was a bomb site but really, you're a guest and you couldn't walk your rubbish to the bin?

8.)  Mould is a scary, scary thing;  I happened to open a garbage bag that had clearly gotten wet and gone undetected.  I still have no idea what the original contents were but the current contents were menacing and looked like they were going to eat me.

9.)  My husband might be the one responsible for the Carlsberg because it would fit with his total failure to ever clean up after any of his little projects.  Foam and MDF remnants, sawdust, come on man, wield the broom occasionally.

Stay tuned kittens.  Next weekend we're going to wrap it up in the garage and turn it into a fully functioning gym.  In the meantime, have a think - what does your garage say about you?