You have no idea what a huge task I have accomplished this weekend.
I have cleaned our garage.
This is no small feat. The last time I attempted this herculean task, I tripped (over the leg of an exercise machine, ironically) and broke my kneecap. This taught me several lessons (aside from the wonder of how nice it was to HAVE to sit on the bed and be waited on for 2 weeks), of which the primarly lesson was how dangerous cleaning really is.
But since we moved into our house several years ago, the garage has been the repository for all sorts of stuff. Boxes and boxes and boxes and garbage bags full of baby clothes that no longer fit our "baby," discarded kids' toys and baby furniture, miscellaneous chairs that we no longer use, etc. I'd have taken a picture, but I didn't want to memorialize it. The only good part of the mess was that it provided our two cats with a cardboard jungle they loved to prowl through and hide in.
Anyway, Roger headed out yesterday morning to take Caroline to her riding lesson, and I decided to surprise him with enough space to park a car in. (He is new-car shopping, so having space in the garage to park it in is the ultimate Christmas present.)
I'm very proud of myself for discarding so liberally. All those lawyer clothes I haven't worn in years and will never wear again? Off to Salvation Army, along with belts and shoes and working-woman-accessories like clunky gold jewelry and power scarves and such. And the size 8 jeans that, at this rate, my daughter would fit into before I would again. And old dishes we don't use, and a bookshelf we always disliked because it was wobbly, and books and old albums and all sorts of stuff.
By the time Roger returned, there was space for a car (with visible garage floor!) and a small pile of boxes yet to be looked through.
Although my muscles are sore, I feel psychologically lighter from having discarded all that junk! Last night, we celebrated with tamales for dinner, then I took a long soak in the tub while looking through Quilting Arts magazine.
Today is another load to Salvation Army and a load to the dump. Merry Christmas, husband!