On Saturday we finally cleaned out the garage. Around three years ago we got new furniture and decided to just put the old stuff in the garage. Just for awhile. This started a cavalcade of just opening up the garage and heaving more stuff on top. Soon the Christmas tree took the motorcycle’s spot. Then the motorcycle took the tools spot. Then random mountain goats showed up to hop from pile to pile. Damn goats.
I stayed in the back organizing the fifty-two tubs of Christmas speculating the entire time if converting to Judaism would just save space.
After three hundred small town crazy people sorted through our Herb Ritts collection, neoprene pants and serving trays we now have our garage back. As a gay man, I have to say it's good feeling to finally be free of twelve Herb Ritts framed prints. That and a garage.