Making Do

This week I took on the dreaded task of organizing the garage.

I strive to keep it uncluttered, but inevitably, over time,

the path from my car to the door gets narrower.

Stuff, stuff, stuff.

My desire to throw it all away battles with my practical side of minimal waste.

You never know when you'll need a sturdy box gives rise to a pile of discarded Amazon cartons.

Even if they are broken down, do I really need to stock pile a dozen?  

What about used bubble warp?

There's also two yards of plush velvet fabric, a beach umbrella, old rugs, 

and a French leather club chair in need of repair. 

Stuff, stuff, stuff.

I started a few days ago with the manageable task of shredding old financial statements

and sorting through bins of old files, photos and letters.  

At night, dislodged memories from long lost encounters embedded in my dreams.

Today I moved the heavy stuff from in front of cabinets whose doors I could no longer access. 

Making Marie Kondo proud, joyless items filled the trash receptacles.

Stuff is replaced by uncluttered space. 

Laundry room, you're next.

We ended the day, toasting the sunset on our little patch of earth at the lowest portion of our garden.

The big backyard project is complete just in time for shelter in place,

but purchasing furniture hangs on my to-do list like limp laundry.  

Vintage lawn chairs plucked from their perch in the garage will have to suffice for now.