It was time for a garage sale.
It wasn’t just extra stuff that I wanted to sell.
I wanted to sell the whole garage—junk included.
I could picture my 47 year-old garage being whisked off to the final resting place for old garages. Someone, please tell me there is such a place.
How I yearned for a new one to rise up miraculously in its place!
Wanting a new garage is a tell tale sign that I’ve bought into our throw away, disposable society.
When something gets old, we replace it, even if it’s still functional.
Because my garage is obviously too big to drop off at a local Good Will or Habitat for Humanity, it became clear it was time to do some serious cleaning and organizing.
My mission began on a hot June afternoon, when Bill was gone for the day. In my heart of hearts, I know I chose this start time because it’s easier for me to bring order to Bill’s clutter than to deal with my own.
I zeroed in on Bill’s workbench.
Bill’s workbench had become the resting place for umbrellas with ribs that could poke out an eye, worn hiking boots with the red laces popular a few decades ago, and enough empty plastic and cardboard boxes to set up our own shipping supply store.
Yet organizing Bill’s workbench seemed more manageable to me than cleaning up the rubble on my side of the garage.
Why is it so much easier to fix someone’s disarray than one’s own?
Readers, what do you think? Is it easier to clean up after yourself or someone else?