Tooltime Tim Was Finally Given the Wall Compound

This used to be stuffed with Alabama stuff.
Now it is condensed into the bottom two
drawers of the cabinet on the left.

Marty Sunshine and I spent the weekend cleaning out the garage. We have been in our home 14 years, and I am pretty sure nothing in the past 14 years has voluntarily left the garage until this past weekend. Of course, over time, lots of things have made their way into what we euphemistically refer to as the "room of requirement."

This weekend project wasn't brought to you by some sort of marriage retreat organization, which sends unsuspecting couples into their garages all over the world, with the idea the couple will have a loving bonding experience as they sort through kid-roller blades, real estate open house signs, kitchen gadgets, tools and a plethora of half-used plastic bottles with names like, "ant killer," "Draino" or "Rainex." Though I have to tell you, if there is someone reading this that happens to run a marriage retreat and is thinking "what a great idea!" please call me first before you add such a project to your curriculum because I promise you, there are many other ways to have loving bonding experiences that don't require spouses to spend 20 minutes debating whether or not we should keep a 3 gallon container of wall compound and 473 flashlights.

This weekend project was brought to you by the folks in Alabama who have destroyed our company. You see, we had to drain our savings account before we close down our accidental business. Our last major purchase was commissioning Tooltime Tim to build a palace shed in our back yard. As Tooltime Tim was planning the shed, I had a philosophical discussion with him about how I don't want to put an adorable wraparound porch on the outside of the shed. Nor do I want specialized rooms on the interior. I just wanted four walls and a roof. What I ended up with was Tooltime Tim's rendition of a shed. But the great news is it is painted the same color as my home and it is sturdy enough to survive a zombie apocalypse.  Anyway, this weekend, we cleaned out the garage, moved all of our worldly garage possessions to the trash, thrift store or the indestructible 12 foot monument in the back yard.
 

For the past gazillion years, the records for the accidental business have lived in two filing cabinets and two fireproof strong boxes. Over the years there have also been banker boxes, and lots of other storage places, which also took over a good portion of the garage. Last year, I took--and I am not making this up--21 banker boxes to the shredder. I was finally given permission to get rid of old files. This weekend, I was able to take care of even more. All of our Alabama stuff is now condensed into two drawers in the large, metal cabinet. In a few weeks I am hoping I can toss another round into the trash heap.
 

The best part of the garage clean up--other than I can now possibly park two cars in there--is that it signaled to me the beginning of the end. Extraneous Alabama business stuff is gone. Pamphlets I passed out to lenders during a few meet and greet Alabama trips I took years ago were found and dumped. Marketing materials, old home inspection reports and other needless papers I have been required to keep were tossed or shredded. They are gone. Forever. And that means we are almost ready to close.