In the garage, I feel safe.

It's a great Weezer song. I love that song! "No one hears me sing this song..."

But today I faced the abyss that is my garage, and I felt overwhelmed, not safe. The week after we bought our house last October, I went through and put piles of crap in garbage bags. Mr. Zellmer left EVERYTHING here, and in order to clean the place and move our own stuff in, I just shoved everything into boxes and bags and threw it in the garage (which already had years of detritus piled up). Then my dad got here with our overstuffed U-Haul. Our materialism came back to haunt me, and we piles more stuff into the garage. All winter it lurked in the back of my mind, the monster that I would have to face one day in the spring.

That day was today. My goal was to move stuff around enough to create room for the crap that I put on my porch throughout the winter. It was a huge task, involving a large bonfire in the back yard.

I'm happy to report that the porch is half empty. The garage is another story.

I had planned to empty out the other half tomorrow, but I decided to spend time wtih my grandma instead. Grandma is much more fun than cleaning.