Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Stuart and I went on a crash diet this weekend and lost a couple hundred pounds. Our waistlines are not trimmer but the garage is no longer stuffed to the gills. It had to be done. Especially after I posted a picture of the disaster for all the world to see. It's one thing to admit that I'm a slacker. But what if somebody sent me an e-mail a month from now and asked, "Do the kids still have to wrestle with painting equipment and footstools to get at their bikes?" If I had to admit that they were, what kind of mother would I be? So we cleaned the garage.

My favorite box was filled with joy sticks to a Nintendo game. We don't own Nintendo. Remote controls. Lots of them. We pushed buttons. Maybe we were turning on the ceiling fan to our last house? "Hey! Remember the TV that caught on fire. I think this was the remote that went to it."

Cordless phones without their base units. A rechargable battery. To what? More head scratching. Enough! "Tip the whole mess into this here trash bag. Ah! Now hand me the box. I've got 30 canning jars that need a better home than the bottomless cardboard box they've been in for the last year."

The back of the car is stuffed with highchairs and doll strollers and the chandalier that was hanging over our bed. (The ceiling fan that took it's place is much more enjoyable.) We hung shelves for sprays and cleaners and other man stuff. Moldy rockers and old doors are sitting on the trailer waiting to be hauled to the dump. The shop vac gobbled spiders, a whole army of spiders and egg sacs. Stuart sprayed Raid in after them for good measure.

And finally, after five years of sitting in the garage of two homes, we said good riddance a fond farewell to old stereo equipment. I'll replay the scene for you. I could write this in my sleep for it is a conversation we have had many times over the years though never with this particular ending.

"Hon, what about the tape deck, the CD player and the VCR? Do you think we still need those?"

"Umm."

"Well, do you? We use the computer for everything. They've been taking up storage space for five years."

"You can't play tapes on the computer."

"We don't play tapes! Every tape you've ever owned is on Rhapsody. We don't even know where the box of tapes is!"

"Mmm."

He didn't say no! Every other time when I say "Do you think we still...." I don't even get to finish the sentence before he says,

"Yes! I'm keeping them!"

He didn't say no!

"So you think it might be time then?"

"I'm not throwing them away! They're still good."

"I know they are. I wasn't thinking of throwing them away. Can we give them away?"

"I guess."

"Do you want to help me load them up or would you rather leave while I do it?"

"You can do it. I don't want to watch."

"OK. How 'bout those speakers? I know I'm really pushing here but come on they are each the size of a midsize refrigerator.

"Umm. Umm." Silence. "Alright."

Yes! "I'll get those too then."

Stuart left to haul the paint cans to the shed and I loaded up the car. I hummed cheerily. If Stuart was humming, it was dirgelike and morose.