This is a re-post of a popular entry.

My garage is empty – completely empty. You could actually put a car in it – a small one (they didn’t foresee mid-sized cars when they built this house in the twenties). No, it is not like winning a Nobel prize, but I suspect there are many of you out there who have some similar humble goals.

“How did she do it?” you marvel. Grit, hard work, determination and a little cash. Let me clarify, it was other people’s grit, hard work and determination, and my cash. I spent much time beating myself up for not being able to get it done by myself. Just a little each month to the rubbish truck, I thought, what’s the big deal? But everything was old, dusty, and frankly, too icky to deal with. And most importantly, there were show stoppers – like the paints and the tires and the 25 year old air conditioner – that the regular rubbish collection won’t take. Well, I finally took my own advice – You can’t do it all yourself, that’s why God invented other people – and I called someone. Well equipped, strong men who were unfazed by ick, piled it all into their truck and took it away. The high from seeing that garage empty was like getting a new toy. There are two types of reactions to gaining all this space: One is the George Carlin routine where you get rid of your “stuff” so you can buy more “stuff”; the other is to just simply bask in the space to the point where you don’t want to ruin it by putting anything into it ever again.

So, why do you care about my garage?  It is September and I know you, my dear readers, you are beating yourself up for not getting that thing, whatever it is, done all summer. It’s hanging over your head like an ACME anvil in a Roadrunner cartoon. Therefore, it is time for my periodic enabling of your inner delegator.  If there is any way you can possibly afford it, whatever your “anvil” might be, hire someone else to do it.  I was pleasantly surprised that it actually cost less than I was imagining, and well worth it to get rid of that anvil.

If you are cleaning out a large space you might actually be tempted to keep more if you do it yourself bit by bit. I had already given away things that were useful so when that truck pulled up all of the second guessing went right out of my head and just told them to take it all. Of course if you do this you have to promise yourself, no regrets. The day after the great riddance my son, Paul, called looking for a pair of safety cones that had been in the garage, untouched, since – I kid you not – 1993. Yeah, they were on the truck. It was inevitable.

Which response did I have to all the new space? Last weekend I had to replace my big old CRT computer monitor. Paul asked me where he should put it. With a single tear dropping down my cheek in classic Demi Moore fashion, I haltingly whispered “put it in the garage.”