I cleaned the garage this weekend. It was the hardest workout I've ever done. Actually, it was far more than a garage cleaning. It was a complete restack of all of the storage in my house - boxes under beds, closets, dressers, kitchen cabinets. Everything had to be pulled out, sorted and reorganized.
Our house is small, not by Southern California standards, but by 2 people and a cat live here standards. This is a 1920's bungalow with 2 tiny coat closets. (Oh, how I miss the 3 walk in closets I left behind in Texas.) Clutter stresses me, so I'd much rather toss something in a box and move it to the garage than let it sit on a counter. It's a bad habit, but the house always looks very tidy - as long as no one sees the garage.
Another part of the problem is I've acquired different stuff since I moved to California because my life is different here. However, I've still got relics of my Texas stuff hogging space. In California, I acquired a bike, 2 lawn mowers (left by the previous owner), clothing is escalating sizes, more cookbooks, Steve. These things all take space. Over time, that's meant an endless parade of half full boxes going out to the garage.
A big part of the weekend was evaluating what gets the oh-so-scarce closet space. For instance, I have roughly 500 pairs of shoes in this house. That made sense when I wore heels all the time. I now spend 95% of my time in flip flops or running shoes; it's time to reclaim the closet that's a been a shrine 4 inch heels. Oh and those six 6 cigarette pants? I'm not ever going to be that thin again.
It was hours of sorting, laundry, tossing, dropping items off the nicest items at the battered womens shelter. There still a fair amount of work to be done, but it's already a lot better. I've got until the end of the week when Father Joe's is scheduled to pick up the rest of it.
All in all, it would have been far easier to do the 8 mile run I'd planned.