This morning, while he was getting ready to go to work, Chuck asked if I had the time to find some sort of 2-line phone splitters and cables. Last week, this would have sent me into a rant about the abhorrent condition of that garage and how I can't even find the light-switch, much less try to put my hands on objects so small. The wheelbarrow? Yes, I can see that. The lawnmower? Yes, I can make out the handle. But a 2-line phone splitter?
This morning, while he was getting ready to go to work, Chuck asked if I had the time to find some sort of 2-line phone splitters and cables. Last week, this would have sent me into a rant about the abhorrent condition of that garage and how I can't even find the light-switch, much less try to put my hands on objects so small. The wheelbarrow? Yes, I can see that. The lawnmower? Yes, I can make out the handle. But a 2-line phone splitter? Go to Home Depot for that because we haven't organized that behemoth cesspool since the day we moved in and dumped 1000 sq. ft. of crap from our other house into that 400 sq. ft. closet and closed the door. There was no way to get from one end of the garage to the other without getting hurt, so all the stuff we used regularly to maintain the exterior of the home was stored just inside the big, sliding garage door and anything we used regularly to maintain the interior of the house was stored just inside the small, internal garage door. Everything else blended into the pile of flotsam and jetsam left over from the DOTcom and Y2K technology crash that brought us to this more modest home.
This morning, though, I was able to not only respond positively to his request, but to even go one step further and offer to iron his shirt! Why? Because we spent Saturday of this past 3 day holiday weekend cleaning and organizing the garage and I knew exactly where the box of phone related stuff was stored.
On Saturday morning Chuck woke up and asked, “What’s on your agenda for today?” I answered, without even thinking, “Clean the garage.” So that’s what we did.
We emptied out all the big things first, and then we were left with that horrendous mess of scattered tools, bits, and miscellaneous household items that I’ve been tossing out there to go to Goodwill one of these days. Rather than throw up my hands in defeat and load all the big things back into the garage as I’ve done before, I determined to get this stuff either organized or tossed.
Part of the problem with me organizing the garage is that I have no clue what most of these bits and pieces mean. To me, a drill bit looks like a broken end of some tool, and the various plumbing tools, clamps, belts and gaskets make so sense to me. So Chuck’s big role in the whole endeavor was to sit around and tell me what is what so that I could file it properly and wouldn’t just throw it away, as would have happened if left to my own devices.
“Video?” I ask, holding up a cable.
“Audio.” He responds. It goes into the audio box.
“Audio?” I ask, holding up a cable that looks a lot like the one I just had.
“No, video.” He answers. Okay, into the video box.
“Trash?” I hold up what looks like a broken garden hose attachment.
“NO! That’s a really cool tool that you put onto the end of a garden hose, and this rubber piece blows up like a balloon, and then it shoots a blast of high pressure water into your clogged pipe.”
“Plumbing.” I toss it into the proper pile.
“Trash?” I hold up what looks to me like a piece that had been cut off a steel pipe.
“NO! That’s used to drill holes”
“Drill bits.” I toss it into the proper pile.
“Which drill bits?” He asked.
“Just drill bits; if it’s a bit, it goes into this box.”
“But these are not all drill bits!”
“You know what? From now on, if you’re looking for a ‘bit’ it’s in this box. You can subcategorize at your leisure.”
Given the miracle that is happening in the garage already, Chuck decides not to press the issue and just go with the flow.
For his office, Chuck took a 2-drawer file cabinet that we found in the rubble, as well as the green wing-back chair that our cat had peed on and I wouldn’t allow in the house (even though I had cleaned it) but couldn’t quite bring myself to throw away.
He finally finished putting together the wood and iron park bench that had been my present on my first mother’s day, 7 years ago.
We found the foldable dolly that I had been convinced was stolen by the movers who demolished half of our furniture 2.5 years ago.
We dug out and dusted off the Bowflex and Nordic-track to set up in our spare room to make it look like we work out.
And, by the end of the day, we uncovered a large, bare patch of concrete in the center of the garage, allowing free passage from one end of the room to the other.
We have things to do yet, like subcategorizing the box of screws and finding a better use of the storage space. There is still not enough room in our garage to actually park 2 cars but we are now, at least, not ashamed to open the door in the middle of the day.
It just felt good on Saturday night to sit outside on the bench, sipping iced-tea while the boys played amongst the water sprinklers we hadn’t set up before because we didn't remember owning them.