12:50 PM EDT on Friday, October 4, 2002

Reported by: David Alan

My wife would never admit it, but deep down she knows if she wants me to willingly tackle the more "usual" household chores, all she needs to do is put "Clean Garage" on my honey-do list.

I'm not sure why I dislike the job so much, except for the fact our garage is always such a mess. For some reason, on most days, I can walk right by the clutter and talk myself into feeling ok about it.

But this past weekend, I decided to roll up my sleeves and get to the bottom of the mess.

Part of the mess comes from the fact that we just don't get rid of enough junk. OK, I'm told I don't get rid of enough junk.

I think part of it is the fact that my parents were raised during the depression. Growing up, I heard them rejoice over not having to buy another package of nails for just one.

But that doesn't explain why I still have a rusted seven iron from the first set of golf clubs I ever had. What was it about the seven iron and what happened to the rest of the clubs?

I also can't explain why I have the few last drops of paint from houses I painted in places I just barely remember I lived.

I also keep old running shoes to mow the lawn. You'd think one pair would do. And, once they get as hard as a rock, am I ever really going to wear them?

I could go on and on, but you get the point.

I try to explain to my wife, a garage full of 'stuff' is a guy thing. She tells me my brother-in-law has a neat garage. I've never seen it, but I think it's one of those really neat garages. He's also a scratch golfer, so I really don't know where he finds the time.

But I am trying to turn over a new leaf. Believe me, I've found plenty of those hidden in the corners of the garage. I went through everything, throwing out things I haven't touched and haven't needed in a long time.

When I finished, I actually had a pretty decent pile of trash. I was proud of myself for having the courage to pear down and throw out.

But after I put back my wife's potting bench, her bike, roller blades and dusted off that refrigerator she had to have -- and after I rolled my daughter's Barbie bike, the wagon, strollers, tractor, kites and skates back into place, I wondered if I'd made any progress.

Wait, the garage is my mess?