No, a cruise missile didn't hit the garage workshop. It's just a plain, home-made dump-fest.

I could have just tossed a match in there.

I've been mindlessly chucking stuff in here for months upon months. Of course I'm not alone in the mess making, there's some significant juvenile assistance, as well as the standard, well-intentioned, spousal additions to the heap. Sure, I'd done a little work shuffling the piles around and organizing but, as a whole, the garage was still an official Federally declared disaster area. I'm surprised the Vice President didn't show up to survey the damage with the press-corps. 

After the standard shuttling of kids activities, I devoted the bulk of the weekend to getting the place ship shape. If you try this yourself, be sure to follow my proven steps precisely, Don't waver off track.

Step 1:

A couple trips to the Goodwill Donation Station cleared the Everest sized mountain in the center.

Seriously, our youngest is a second grader. We had three strollers. I even dropped off brand-new clothes our kids outgrew before they could wear them. Why do we pack-rat this stuff? Regardless, it's gone now, en-route to a better homes, I hope. 

Step 2:

Clean up the Halloween Decorations so the trusty orange 'n black storage case can be man-handled up through the tiny attic access panel. Tonight, the ghouls can begin their rest for another year.

Note to self. Add retractable attic steps to the to-do list. What a pain in the butt. 

Step 3:

 I unleashed 24 inches of pure, unrestrained sweeping fury and tore a swath of destruction through the debris strewn wasteland, leaving only a barren slab of 35 year old, stained concrete in my wake.  Yeah, you read it right, I swept the hell out of the place, cleaned every nook and cranny. I'm an animal. 

Note to self.  Add garage floor coating to the to-do list.

First Person Shooter Mode

Step 4:

Dig through the swept-up mountain of crap and pick out the bits worth saving. Especially bits that would be missed by a certain pint-sized DIY girl at some point.

Rubber duckie, you're the one that makes bath time fun,

Step 6:

I spent a good hour discarding boxes of old paperwork.  Good Lord, why was I sitting on canceled checks from the National Bank of Detroit, Alltel phone bills, and inspection reports from our first home? I think I burned up the shredder. Heaps of cardboard boxes and packaging got diced up for the recycle bin as well. I have no excuse why I still had the box for the water heater out there. 

Step 7:

Thirty minutes with the shop vacuum, and the place was clean. There's some toy stuff Gracie won't let me cart off yet, but for the most part, I have a bunch 'o room to start my next round of projects. 

Ohhhhhh yeahhhhhh...

One of these days I'm going to finish that hallway organizer piece I've been using as a second workbench and I'll have even more luxurious room to work (or install big power tools in).

I'll have to be careful though. Too much room and Sweetie might start getting ideas, nonsense, end-of-the-world ideas like

actually parking a car in the

garage.

workshop.

Insanity.

Still a no parking zone!

But for now, every time I go out there,  I just can't help enjoying the vast expanse of new-found real-estate. 

Very soon, sawdust will fly again. The workshop will come alive,... alive with...

Note to self. Don't spin around like Julie Andrews on a flower-filled Austrian mountain top again. You just can't pull it off dude.