Spring Fever

I adore spring. It's my favorite time of year. These are also the only months I don't get cranky rolling out of bed at 7 a.m. Course it's tough to sleep any later, since our bedroom faces the east and sunrise is like a persistant toddler telling you to get up.

Still, spring is invigorating. The actual desire to dig in the dirt and fuss in the yard. Cleaning and window washing -- oh my. Those look easy at the moment, since I've spent the last two weeks purging a storage shed in the backyard and as of Tuesday, I will no longer be a slave to an actual pay-by-the-month storage unit. This alone should be cause for naked cartwheels down the middle of the street but let's talk again when the garage sale is over.

Unloading the storage unit seemed like a good idea at the time. "Rent" paid for an oversized off-site garage, a black hole where out of sight meant out of mind. We've had the damn thing for a good nine years, mostly because every move my mom made the last few years of her life meant downsizing HER stuff. Well, mom's been gone for five years. And most of that STUFF has since been donated, dispersed or dumped. Sadly, I will say it was an emotional trip I didn't expect a week ago, when I hauled the last two boxes of my mother's things up to the house for a look-see. I found scrapbooks from her high school years, my parents wedding album, letters my dad wrote before they were married while he was stationed in Texas with the Air Force and well, other things I wasn't prepared for. It was an odd feeling to realize that that's all that remained of my family -- two boxes. But it's done.

Still, unloading the storage unit didn't turn out as simple as I'd planned. I had to have somewhere else to put this STUFF. Mostly, holiday decorations and other schmutz I hope my kids enjoy pawing through some day. So, I turned to the storage shed in the backyard, normally a place I wouldn't go near if my hair was on fire. I mean, the lawn mower's out there and the minute I learn how to use that, it will become my job as well.

No matter, I got brave and decided to clean it out. If I thought the storage unit was a black hole, then the shed was worse. I started hauling things out of there, holding them up to John for "aye" or "nay" approval.

Typical conversation:

Me: "What car do these tire chains (TWO sets) belong to?"

John: "I dunno."

Me: "Do we have to keep these? They don't go to our current rigs."

John: "Yes, we need to keep them. We might need them someday."

Me: "But what kind of car do they fit?"

John: blank stare.

I didn't admit I knew of two other sets of tire chains in the garage, which also don't fit the cars we currently drive. Trust me -- at least two sets are garage sale bound.

Here's another one. Picture please I'm holding three, THREE, military-issue ammo cans. We used to use them when we white water rafted since they float. Umm, note here: John sold the raft eight years ago.

Me: "Okay, do we need the ammo cans?"

John (looking horrified): "YES!!! We're overdue for an earthquake."

Me: blank stare

Why is that if guys can't find something, they just go buy another one? I won't discuss how many cans of Thompson's Water Seal, Wood Sealer and (dear God) freon I found out there. Metro's Hazardous Waste Disposal Event got a lot of that and all the left over paint as well.

People, there are four of every size picnic cooler known to man. A boat anchor, but the boat's been gone for at least six years. There were mulching blades for a lawn mower we haven't had since we moved from our old house 12 years ago. And don't even get me going on the golf clubs, golf bags and pull carts.

After two long days, I'm proud to say the storage unit is pretty well empty and all the STUFF I hauled home is either in the pile destined for the garage sale or neatly put away in new homes. It's been an essentially solo project, since John's only a week out from shoulder surgery and Christopher's been battling a bum knee.

I've done a garage sale every year for the last six years. I keep thinking I'm getting ruthless in my purging, but apparently I didn't. The pathetic part is that I'll probably do another one next year and will still find more STUFF. Where does it come from?